


Some Kind of Monster

by CapturetheFinnick



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angel Waverly Earp, Crime Fighting, Demon Hunters, Demons, F/F, New York City, Supportive Earp Siblings (Wynonna Earp), Vampires, Witches, this is really hard to summarize / explain ??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 01:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16295495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapturetheFinnick/pseuds/CapturetheFinnick
Summary: Most people didn’t know there was a whole different side to New York, a side that slinked in the shadows, that crawled through the gutters. There was an underworld, anything that could possibly inhabit the deep reaches of your nightmares, gathered under the city, slinking around the corners, always one step behind you. They say you’re never more than six feet from a rat, well the same was true for demons. Most people just didn’t want to know.~Past trauma and copious amounts of whiskey have left ex-cop turned demon killer Nicole Haught haunted by demons of both the physical and metaphorical kind. But when she's assigned a particular case, everything she knows about the order of things is turned upside down.ORThe one where New York's full of demons and it's Nicole's job to kill them





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So it turns out it's quite hard to summarise this without spoiling it??  
> This is my new chapter fic which came to me entirely on a train journey (beat that JK Rowling) and I'm pretty excited about it! Hopefully you enjoy it, I'm sort of going for a jessica jones / angel (the show) type vibe

Nicole woke up with a start. The dawn’s light had flooded the room, pouring through the crack in the window that had been (badly) covered with duct tape, the blinds lying abandoned, still waiting at the edge of the window. The light pooled in the corner of the room, dust swirling like a gathering sand storm, fluttering and swirling mockingly in the early morning breeze as if it were reminding her she never cleaned. It was strange that something so gross could look so beautiful. She lifted her head, her back cracking, her neck twinging slightly. She’d fallen asleep at her desk again. She felt the familiar throbbing of her cheek from where it had been pressed against the wood all night, her laptop screen coming to a start as she moved her hand. There was an image still on the screen, an image of a rather scrawny man, his ginger hair beginning to bald, his arm thrown around a considerably smaller man, his dark hair not showing any signs of thinning, his eyes gaunt, and in the background there was a bar sign, _the red zone._ Research. The other tabs read _gmail (0), danger of mixing tylenol and whiskey, shae pressman (facebook)._ She felt slightly guilty about that last one. A bad habit. But then again, at that moment Nicole was built out of bad habits, each forming a part of her like kindling, bound together with alcohol.  A bottle of whiskey still stood tall and proud on the desk, catching the light, _the culprit._ Nicole would like to pretend this wasn’t the third night that week she’d fallen asleep, drunk, at her desk. But hey, she had her coping methods, even if they’d been deemed _unhealthy_ by that one therapist Nedley had made her see.

The banging came at the door again, and Nicole groaned,

“It’s open,”

“Always is,” Dolls said, throwing the door open and raising his eyebrows at the state of the room in front of him. Nicole grimaced, the last thing she needed now was his _judgement._ His shirt was freshly ironed as always, his collar at perfect, perpendicular angles to his jacket, a badge peeking from the top pocket that Nicole knew boasted, _secret division._ She rolled her eyes; he still had a badge. She couldn’t help the slight bitter taste it left in her mouth. She knew even though he tried not to talk about it in front of her, he was incredibly proud of his ranking, and somewhere, in a deep, dark corner, Nicole was proud of him too. Only that Nicole was pushed down by a hungover, bitter version of Nicole.

“Then, why do you always knock?” Nicole said, slamming the lid of her laptop and making a last-ditch effort to hide the bottle underneath her desk.

“You’re drinking again?” he said, and she could see his eyes taking in the sights around him, the empty takeaway containers still on the bedside table, the smashed window still unfixed, the various empty bottles in the waste paper basket.

“Did I ever stop?” she asked him, half grinning, looking right at him, dark circles coating her under eyes.

“Nicole,” he said firmly, as if she were a child he was scolding for staying out too late,

“Dolls,” she echoed,

“I care about you,”

“I care about you too,” she grinned, sarcastically.

He raised his eyebrows, “I mean it, I don’t think you’re okay,”

“I’m fine,” she said, raising up from her place at the table and placing a hand on his shoulder, “I promise.” She turned, the hangover rushing to her head, and grabbed a packet of Tylenol from the stack on her ‘book’ shelf, grabbing her backpack from where it lay slumped by the door, “Anyway, I have to go,”

“Where are you going at 6am?” Dolls called after her as she started down the hallway,

“Out,”

Dolls sighed, shaking his head, “I’m sending someone to fix this,” he said, pointing at the cracked window,

“Whatever,” Nicole said, the elevator doors closing behind her, Dolls being reduced to a sliver, until he was nothing at all. Part of her wished Dolls would give up on her like everyone else, and part of her didn’t know what she would do if he did. She slumped against the side of the elevator, the familiar scent of urine filling her nose, glaring at herself in the mirror opposite. _God_ did she look a mess. Her short red hair was ruffled, darkened at the top from grease (she pulled her trusty black beanie from the pocket of her backpack which only marginally improved the situation), her eye bags were darker than ever, her face still marked red by the desk, her clothes were crumpled, her favourite ripped jeans ripped just a little _too much_ from where she’d fell chasing a _target_ last week.

She sighed and walked out into the street, the sun rising, dyeing the sky pink over the skyscrapers. New York was always so _noisy_ even in the early morning. Already she could hear the whir of traffic, the honking of horns, the sounds of yelling. She slung her backpack over her shoulder, squinting into the early morning sunlight. Time to face another day.

~

Her _target_ had been sent to her the night before.

They sent them to her at sporadic moments, one a week, sometimes two. She didn’t know much about who sent them, and she didn’t much care. They’d reached out to her during one of her darker moments, and they’d offered her steady work, which was just about the only thing that kept her going at that moment. She’d been bitter and angry and lost, and they’d given her a solution. That was all she needed to know.

Every week or so she got an email, name of target, a photograph, a brief description.

 _“It doesn’t bother you don’t ever see them? Face to face?”_ Dolls had said, the pair of them crashed on her sofa, watching re-runs of bad tv shows (this was before her tv had decided to give up),

“demons are demons,” she’d said, taking a swig of whiskey,

“I guess,” he’d said, appearing unconvinced.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know he cared about her, Dolls and Nedley were the only two people she had left in the world. It wasn’t even that she didn’t care, she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t live her normal life, go to the precinct, chase down people for stealing loaves of bread, hand out parking tickets, sort out petty feuds, knowing what was _out there._

 _You haven’t been the same since,_ a rather under observant therapist had once told her, _yeah no shit._ She still saw it all the time, the blood stains on their dresses from a distance had looked like a pattern, it was only up close where she could see their twisted necks that she’d realised the truth. She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about it. Not today. Today she had a plan.

~

Some research into the ‘target’ had told her he might be around here. His close friend owned this bar, and Nicole stationed herself opposite, her standard camera clutched in one hand.

Most people didn’t know there was a whole different side to New York, a side that slinked in the shadows, that crawled through the gutters. There was an underworld, anything that could possibly inhabit the deep reaches of your nightmares, gathered under the city, slinking around the corners, always one step behind you. _They say you’re never more than six feet from a rat,_ well the same was true for demons. Most people just didn’t want to know. The place was flooded with demons if you knew what you were looking for, and once your eyes were opened it was mighty hard to go back to pretending, mighty hard to ever sleep properly at night again. Nicole had been privately hunting down vampires when the organisation had found her, you could say she had a _special interest,_ but now she hunted all sorts, demons with faces full of teeth, or with three feet of horns, werewolves and fae with fire burning in their eyes. She had somewhat of a reputation, there wasn’t nothing she couldn’t kill, not while she harboured so much anger in her heart.

 _You’ve got a taste for it,_ Dolls had said, his eyes half covered in shadows as he leant against the bookshelf,

_A taste for what?_

_For the killing,_

That was the part she didn’t want to admit to herself. It wasn’t really killing, not if the guy had three tentacles coming out of his face, not if he was _evil._ Because things were always so black and white right? That’s what the whiskey was for, it kept the problems of morality at bay.

~

That was him. He swaggered out of the bar, a thick woollen black scarf wrapped around his neck. A scarf? In _May?_ That was already suspicious.

Nicole saw him turn down the side street. She slinked just behind him, keeping the right amount of distance, pressed closely against the brick side walls. He turned another corner. Where was he going? His pace quickened, and Nicole had to speed to catch up. He turned the corner again into an alley. It was narrow, the sheer height of the buildings blocking the light, making it seem like dusk rather than midday, the noises of the city could still be heard beyond the barriers, but here they seemed to be very much alone, each shout a distance echo, a sliver of light illuminating a single corner. The man placed his hand against a large wooden door, the kind of door that looked out of place in modern New York, that looked more fitting to a small medieval village. Nicole lurked in the corner, she was more than aware that she had nowhere left to hide, that if he were just to turn his head slightly, he would see her. She gripped the knife slightly harder against her thigh, she could feel it’s blade press against her jeans, could feel the handle pressed hard against the palm of her hand. He moved his hand as if to knock before turning his head and looking directly at Nicole, a large, menacing grin coming across his face,

“I see you,” he lured, tilting his head as Nicole emerged from the shadows, “you been tracking me?” he grinned, “cute,”

Nicole kept her knife behind her back as she moved closer to him. He looked her up and down, scanning her with his eyes,

“Human,” he said, “interesting,”

“There’s plenty more interesting things about me,” she spat, turning around as he circled her. She stayed on alert, on the balls of her feet as he reached for his neck, pulling the scarf off and revealing huge gills on the side of his neck from which tentacles began to unravel, growing longer and moving independently like snakes, wriggling in the air, the man opening his mouth and growling. She had to admit it. She wasn’t expecting _that._

“That’s some intimidation tactic you’ve got there,” she grinned, still feeling the blade against her thigh,

“You’re going to die,” he hissed,

“Debatable,” she said, lunging for him and plunging the knife deep into his neck, the tentacle flailing, she pulled the knife out as he screamed, throwing his hand to his neck as he spat at her. It wasn’t over yet. He lunged at her, a leg darting out and knocking her to the floor as the remaining tentacle reached for her face, attempting to wrap itself around her neck. She could feel it curling around her neck, slimey and _warm,_ it’s pulse pulsating against her own, a counter beat. She pushed it away, finally getting her other arm free from under her back where he was stood on her stomach, clutching the knife and stabbing the tentacle multiple times as it writhed against her throat until it lay still also, shrivelling and slipping free from his neck. The demon backed himself into the wall, still holding his neck, blood pouring, splattering onto the floor and running in between the cobbles like a moat.

“You won’t get away from this,” he spat, his voice hoarse, the words struggling to come out,

“Watch me,” she said, closing in closer to him, her ankle still shooting sharp pain from where he’d pushed her before. She closed in on him until she had him cornered, no weapon, both tentacles dead, she reached up her arm with her knife and slice it across his throat with a finality as she stared into his eyes,

“Bobo won’t get away with this, we – w-will come for you,” he said, his voice spluttering before he fell to his knees, collapsing into a pool of his own blood.

 _Bobo._ What did that mean?

Nicole stepped backwards, the adrenaline leaving her body and rendering her disgusted, she didn’t want to look at the body, didn’t want to see what she’d done. She fled the scene, hobbling on her ankle. She left the body for some other police department to explain their way out of.

There was always a mixed of feelings after the kill. A part of her _enjoyed_ it. It had taken her a while to admit that to herself. A part of her enjoyed the hunt, enjoyed the kill, enjoyed seeing the light dim in their eyes. That was because they were evil though, right? That was because she was avenging everyone who had ever been attacked by something that went bump in the night, right? That’s what she told herself. But there was always another feeling. Her hand shook just a little, and she felt scared. Scared of her own power, of what she could accomplish, she felt disgusted seeing a body lie on the floor and knowing she had caused it. She felt the familiar sense of unease sink to the pit of her stomach, a single word whirring around her mind, _Bobo._

~

The minute she got back, she got in the shower, peeling her bloody clothes from her body and letting them slap against the bathroom tile, letting the hot water wash away the blood that still stuck to her, the dirt than ran along her bones. Her hands shook. Her ankle began to hurt even more, it was becoming hard to place her weight on it. She got out the shower, pulling an oversized t-shirt that boasted _New York Police Academy_ (clearly, she was a celebrated alumni, she couldn’t help but snort), grabbing a fresh pair of underwear out of her drawer along with an ankle brace she kept in her bedside drawer. Her ankle never really had time to recover before she was running on it again, staying still was bad for Nicole, that’s when her demons found her, sometimes literally. A permanently damaged ankle seemed a small price to pay.

She pulled a full bottle of whiskey out of her desk drawer, pouring it into the small crystalline glass that still lay atop of the desk, she placed the glass to her lips, pouring the whiskey down her throat in one shot before filling the glass up again, placing it beside the computer. She ran a hand through her wet hair, pulling one knee up and pushing it against the desk. She moved her hand over the mouse, the computer spluttering to life. _Bobo._ She bit her lip, typing it into her search bar. Nothing interesting, nothing that matched the feeling she had, the sense of anguish as the demon had said it. She felt a shiver run over it as she quickly shut the tab, refreshing her email and frowning. _She had a new email._ Two in two days? That never happened. The subject line was always left blank and it always came from a different address, but there was no doubt it was the _organisation._ She opened it and was faced with a picture.

A girl, younger than most of her regular targets, long brown hair spilling across her face, her eyes deep brown. She was smiling. She looked picture perfect; cheerleader, prom queen, Nicole swore she could almost see a halo forming around the tip of her hair. _It’s always the ones you never expect._ She scrolled a little further, there was almost no information provided, just her name;

_Waverly Earp._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your feedback last chapter, I've managed to stick so far with my self-inflicted schedule! Here's a sunday upload for you! I also would love to write longer chapters but i really only tend to have the patience for like 3000 words at a time sorry ?

Nicole was up far too early. Her car was freezing cold, and she could see the breath twirl in front of her face, her hands curled around her lukewarm coffee cup. Driving two hours at five in the morning had not exactly been her idea of fun, but the brief amount of research she’d done the night before had told her this was where she might find her _target,_ and Nicole couldn’t sit still for more than two minutes. So that’s how she’d found herself freezing cold, in a backwater middle-of-nowhere town that reminded her far too much of her childhood for her liking, sipping crappy coffee.

So far nothing had happened.

She’d tried to drive to the house, _the homestead,_ but she’d quickly realised that it was in the _middle of fucking nowhere,_ and that a black jeep might be _just a bit conspicuous._ So, she’d settled for second best, parked outside the _one coffee shop_ she could find in this godforsaken tiny town, waiting to see if Waverly Earp would make an appearance.

She’d been a difficult one to track, no social media traces, for all intents and purposes she didn’t seem to exist. _Suspicious._ She didn’t even seem to have a social security number, nor was she registered to any sort of property or job. She was completely and utterly off the grid. Thankfully, Nicole was good at her job and three hours of deep internet searching later she’d found a small article, scanned recently from an old print newspaper, the title reading _attack at homestead leaves two dead, two small children alive._ And there, in the small tiny print, smudged and badly photocopied, had been her name, _Waverly Earp._ There had been a picture too, a tiny child, eyes wide as she looked into the camera, cheeks perfectly round like a cherub, pressed against the side of an older girl, dark, matted, unbrushed hair swinging around her face as she scowled, her gaze just beyond the camera. It was a slightly haunted image. But nevertheless, Nicole had been straight out of there, and next thing she knew she was in the smallest town she had possibly ever seen, a whole world away from her life in the city.

Now she only had to wait for Waverly to make an appearance.

~

Nicole couldn’t stop moving. She felt as her insides were itching. She moved back and forth, only sitting in one position for seconds before switching to the next one. She’d eaten five doughnuts, drank three cups of coffee, snapped three hair ties by messing with them and Waverly Earp had yet to make an appearance. It had only been half an hour. For someone who’s job consisted mostly of sitting still and watching, Nicole Haught was mighty bad it.

And then, there was light.

Waverly Earp stepped out of her red jeep. She was practically shrouded in a golden glow, and Nicole could have sworn she saw the sky brighten ever so slightly, from deep grey to pastel grey, a slight lilt of sun through the veil of cloud. She wore a denim jean jacket that was clearly several sizes too big, a white crop top and a pair of baggy black pants with a too-big-to-be-on-purpose hole in the leg. Her long hair was half plaited around the top of her head like a halo, the rest of it falling in waves around her shoulder, shimmering in the light despite the fact that it was overcast. She was potentially the most beautiful person Nicole had ever seen.

It took her a moment to remember why she was there.

 _No_. She tried to shake the feeling like glitter from her hair. She was here for one thing and one thing only. And Waverly was a _demon._

_A pretty demon._

She watched as Waverly walked into the bakery, laughing with the woman over the counter (who had scowled at Nicole), and walking back out with two dozen cupcakes. _Interesting._ She watched as she placed them in the backseat, leaving again in her jeep. When Nicole thought it had been a decent amount of time she followed her, attempting to stay far enough away so that she wouldn’t see her.

Waverly stopped again, getting out the car and knocking on a door, handing cupcakes to the family, hugging the children, laughing again with the mother. _What was happening?_

~

Nicole watched all day as Waverly did good deeds. Handing out cupcakes to children, reading to babies at the library, buying lemonade from children trying to raise money for charity, helping an old woman across the road.

Nicole was sure she must have the wrong person, but holding up the picture the email had provided, it was a dead match. That was Waverly Earp alright. But surely this woman couldn’t be evil? Buying cupcakes and handing them out to children wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of malevolence.

_There wasn’t an evil bone in that girl’s body._

But some kinds of evil are hidden right? Maybe underneath the goodness that seemed to radiate from her skin, there could be evil?

She furrowed her brow, watching as Waverly headed back to the homestead.

~

She slumped back into her seat, parked in a small bay on the edge of the long winding road that led to the homestead. Normally her job was much easier, she got a target with three horns who tried to kill her, and she felt good about killing them, felt safe in the knowledge that they were a _bad person_ who _deserved it_. Sometimes their demon-nature was hidden but she could still sense it, it still seemed to ooze from them like blood. But this _target_ felt different, something had tilted within her, she felt a small black ball in the pit of her stomach, rolling, that only grew larger when she thought about what she was supposed to do, it felt _wrong._

She thumbed the phone in her hand, sighing before dialling a number.

 _“Haught?”_ the voice was deep, the number was for _emergencies,_ and she had dialled it precisely once before.

“Yeah it’s me,” she took a breath, “I think there’s been a mistake?”

“A mistake?” the man said, incredulous.

“Yes, my target, Waverly Earp,”

“What about her?”

“I don’t think she’s a demon, she seems,” she paused, biting her lip again, “different,”

“Demons aren’t always obvious, Haught,” he drawled, and Nicole could hear the annoyance in his voice, “otherwise everyone would know about them.”

“I know that,”

“Then what’s your problem?”

“I just –“ she started, wanting desperately to say _I just don’t think I can kill her._ But she had a reputation to uphold, she was Nicole Haught, _demon hunter,_ and she was damn good at it. Her title was all she had these days, and damn if she wasn’t going to cling to it like the edge of a damn cliff.

“I guess there isn’t one,” she sighed, biting her lip harder, tasting the blood as it seeped into her mouth, _bitter._

“Then do your job, Haught,” he said, hanging up.

She took a deep breath, slumping back into her seat. She ran a hand through her hair, and looked out at the snow dusted hills, empty for as far as the eye could see, fading into the sky, the snow and the air stitched together, as if, if one ran fast enough, they could run straight up into the sky and live among the snow-filled clouds. That’s what she’d imagine herself doing as a child. She’d sit on the ledge of her window and imagine running so fast, so high, that no one could ever find her again. Nicole shook her head. Now was not the time for dreaming. Now she had a job to do.

~

She pulled her hat out of the trunk of her car, pulling it low over her ears, wrapping a scarf around her neck and pulling her snow boots on. She packed several guns into the inside of her puffy coat, her trusty knife slid inside her belt. She would have to go on foot. The jeep would be way too conspicuous this close to the homestead, and this way she could sneak up on Waverly. Maybe she wouldn’t even have to see her face. _Pull it together, Haught._ One pretty girl and she had been rendered useless, _dumb lesbian._ She thought she was beyond the days of spending all math class staring at a pretty girl instead of learning and failing all her midterms. Clearly not.

~

By the time she got to the homestead, Nicole’s cheeks were so cold she thought they might drop off and even though her fingers were trapped inside thick gloves she could barely feel the tips of her fingers. She took a breath that swirled like smoke in front of her eyes, her warmth mocking her as it drifted away. She pressed her back against the back of the barn, peering around the corner, the light pouring from the living room window. Waverly was home. The _target_ was home. She took a breath, it was now or never. She shed her big coat, laying it on the floor with her gloves, hat and boots. They may be warm but they sure as hell weren’t stealthy, hopefully by the time she was done there’d be nobody left to see her fetch her clothes. She felt the cold like a punch to the stomach, her breath hitching just slightly. This was it. There was no more time to waste.

She shuffled around the edge of the barn until she was able to slink around the side of the homestead itself, finding the back door locked, taking her a mere three minutes to pick (every time she picked a lock she felt like the cool spy she always wanted to be as a child.) She slinked through the door, opening it slowly and hoping that the noise of the blaring tv would be enough to cover any noise she was making. She pressed herself around the back of the stairs, making herself as small and as still as possible. She felt her heart beating a million miles a minute, sending vibrations into the wooden slats below. Her hand gripped her knife where it still rested inside her belt.

She heard two voices wafting from the living room, _she was sure she’d only seen one figure in the window._

“Wy,” the voice was soft, imploring, “you’ve got to rest this is going to kill you,”

“I’ve never rested Waves,” the other voice said, half laughing, seemingly on the edge of some kind of delirium,

“Well now you will,” Nicole could see Waverly cross her arms from behind, “because I’m telling you to, even superheroes need sleep,”

 _Superheroes?_ Nicole felt the hair on the back of her neck raise a little,

“I doubt Bobo’s out there, tucked up in his pyjamas,” the girl laughed,

 _Bobo._ There it was again, Nicole clenched her fist, feeling her entire body going rigid. This couldn’t be a coincidence. Her entire world felt a little titled, she felt as if she was losing her mind, her fingertips slipping with every breath.

“Well you can’t very well defeat him sleep deprived,” Waverly’s voice was soft as silk, every bit as warm and golden as she had imagined it would be.

They were trying to defeat Bobo. She remembered the words of the demon. _Bobo won’t get away with this, we – w-will come for you._ He had thought Bobo had sent her, and now these girls were trying to fight Bobo; these girls who’d been orphaned as children, their tiny faces flashing before Nicole’s eyes again, Waverly so small, clutched into the other girl’s side, a look of steely determination in her eyes. And she thought of the love that was lilted in both of their voices. They were a _family_. She started to feel sick, her whole body shaking, _what had she gotten herself into?_

She had to get out of there.

With decidedly less grace that she usually displayed, she ran out of the house, closing the door as soft as she could behind her, running all the way back to her jeep, leaving her clothes abandoned, half-buried in the snow, the thought not even crossing her mind till much later, the homestead a tiny spot on the horizon. With her hands on her knees, she stared back over that wide, open land, and wretched, her whole body shaking as she threw up into the snow, before leaning back against the jeep, the sun shining bright against the snow, almost blinding her.

Just one small human on the edge of the world.

She climbed inside the jeep, driving as fast and as far as she could.

~

She’d been driving for about an hour, her hands gripping the wheel so hard her knuckles were white, her eyes focused solely on the long road ahead, her knee knocking ferociously against the side of the car, when she received a call, the ring shattering through her bubble, her hands starting to shake once more, her heart pounding in time to every ring. She pulled over, breathing heavily as she answered the phone.

“Nicole,” an all too familiar deep voice, _the organisation._ But they never called her Nicole, only Haught. _Shit, they must know._

“Yes,” she said, trying desperately to stop her voice from shaking.

“Did you do it?” a beat of silence,

“Yes,” she lied, wincing a little,

“Good,” he said, “we have another case for you,”

_Three in three days, something was definitely going wrong._

“Another one?”

“Vampire attack, three girls, an hour outside of New York,”

Her mind flashed back to the girls, their necks snapped and twisted, their eyes wide, blood dripping down from their necks into the gutter below. She shuddered, a small pit on anger starting in her stomach,

“Give me the address, I’m there,” she said,

“Good,”

 _Vampires._ Vampires she could do. Vampires were uncomplicated, they were evil, cold-blooded killers, and their voices weren’t sweet like southern summer rain. Vampires she could kill.

~

When she arrived about half an hour later, dusk was starting to settle in the sky, dark being sprinkled from above, settling into every corner, slowly replacing every drop of sunlight with stars.

It was a small town, complete with old lampposts, quaint ivy climbing every house, dyed orange by autumn. The kind of small town you wouldn’t imagine anything ever happening, the kind of town where time is a slow as treacle. But of course, inevitably the kind of town where everything happened.

Nicole parked the jeep around the back of the town hall, hoping the darkness would be cloak enough. She walked through the town, _the old mill,_ the voice had said, and she could see it ahead of her, slightly lit up. She took a deep breath, preparing for what she might see. Nicole had seen a lot of horror since that first time, but it was still always difficult to see a body stripped of life, so purposefully drained and then abandoned like a carcass. Always difficult to be faced with your own mortality, that life, for all its complexities and bold emotions, was so fragile.

She turned the corner, her heart immediately slowing. There they lay. Three small girls, each of them wearing the same nightdress, white, just past the knees, the same brown ringlets falling just past their shoulders, and the same empty look into their eyes. Nicole leant against the brick wall, her hand instinctively holding her side. She had flashes to that night, the way she’d crumpled to the floor, the way Nedley had pulled her back up to her feet, the long-gone look in their eyes, a small teddy bear still clutched in one hand, their other two hands entwined, fear engraved forever into their dead eyes.

These girls were no different, their three hands entwined, the oldest looking to the youngest in her last moment. Nicole felt bile rise to her throat, the youngest looked no older than four, the oldest maybe twelve.

It was exactly the same, three young girls, dresses pure white, displayed together. There was no moral ambiguity here, here she was looking at the product of stone cold evil.

She heard a shift from behind the door opposite her, and reached for the stake in her belt, grasping it firmly against her palm. She balanced herself, edging closer towards the door, taking a breath before throwing it open. A figure spun around, her dark hair falling in perfect waves down her back, her eyes wide, fangs out, a snarl erupting from her lips. Nicole recognised those eyes, recognised that same steely expression that had leaped out at her from the pages of the smudged newspaper. A small, determined, well-loved orphan, a _vampire._

Of course, she’d been played. Nicole who liked to rely on her instincts, had taken pity on the girls, and here one was, staring back at her, _a vampire,_ a vampire who killed three little girls no less. Nicole felt sick.

The girl looked Nicole up and down,

“So you’re the girl who left half of her clothes at our place?” the girl said, raising her eyebrows, “should have know you’d be back,”

Nicole narrowed her eyes, “Pretty bold for a vampire who’s about to be dead,”

“Been dead for years, darling,” she lured, “bit late on that one,”

Nicole strode closer to the girl, moving around until she had her cornered, the girl only grinning, seemingly unfazed,

“You’re cute if you think you’re going to get out of this one alive,” the girl grinned, tilting her head, “in fact you’re cute, period,” she smiled, and Nicole felt that same rage build in the pit of her stomach, hard as a stone, burning. She lunged, pressing her stake against the girl’s heart, that same infuriating smile still written all over her face,

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you,” Nicole growled, her voice low, her eyes narrowed, mere inches away from the other girl’s,

“Because then I’ll kill you too,” came a voice from behind her, and she turned, feeling a familiar cold against her neck. _Waverly Earp._ Waverly Earp was here and she was holding a crossbow against her neck.

_Fuck._

_They had been right about her._

Dolls had been a thousand percent right, pretty girls were going to be the death of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand the plot thickens, thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought, I'm still having some issues with describing actiony / violent scenes so naturally I've come up with a fic that relies on them?  
> As always, if you want to talk / prompt me my tumblr is waverlysangels and my twitter is waverlysangel  
> Hopefully I should be able to continue with a weekly sunday chapter, but I have two weeks off and am going travelling a bit so we'll see.  
> Hope you have a nice day :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this should be uploaded tomorrow but I finished this chapter like a few days ago and i am impatient and wanted to post it now so? Hope u enjoy

_What are we going to do with her?_

Nicole could vaguely hear people talking above her but they were too far away. She was trapped under a sheet of ice. Shadows danced above her, a hand hovering over the ice, the finger tips pressing and melting into a star point shape. The stars that held so much and so little. The stars that were too damn distant to help anybody. The stars that were like a mirage, a fake glimmer of hope in the ocean. Nicole was drowning. Nicole didn’t know why she wasn’t dead. Nicole’s lungs were full of water. Nicole wondered if she was already dead. If the thin sheet of ice might be the afterlife, might be the door to the so-called heaven. The land of light and clouds. The land she didn’t believe in. But it would be nice.

_I don’t know I didn’t think that far ahead, she was going to attack us!_

_So you knocked her out?_

_Says you, little miss I-always-carry-a-tranquillizer-gun-with-me,_

_Hey you can’t say it wasn’t handy_

She was being carried. She could feel her head knocking against someone’s chest. Knock. Knock. Knock. A hand was knocking against the ice and it was never going to break. Nicole knew the ice, she had hovered beneath the ice for a time. A time she did not know. She sensed that time wasn’t measured under the ice. She sensed that nothing was measured under the ice. She sensed that the ocean didn’t use a system, that fish didn’t argue over imperial or metric; that fish just were. And she just was.

_What do you mean you don’t know when she’s going to wake up?_

_I don’t measure the doses, I didn’t know it was important to you_

_Important to me? We’ve got a hostage who might never wake up?_

_A hostage who was probably sent to kill Waverly,_

_Well there is that_

The ice was so thick. But the hand was still there, the banging growing louder, beating in her ears, running through the water like a current, like the spark of a plug, of a wire with no cover. And the hand was almost as white as the ice.

The ice cracked.

Nicole felt a jolt.

Because the ice cracked. The ice that held no constant. The ice that was not ice. The ice that couldn’t be moved had cracked.

Now there was a small hole in the ice.

Nicole could see the sky above her, and it was blue, it was big and blue and real. She could feel something calling to her, hear someone calling to her.

But what was real and what wasn’t? The ocean felt real as it lapped against her skin. The ocean felt real as it sucked her downwards. But she could see light filtering through the hole, and she wanted to reach out to it.

The hand reached through the gap, and she took it.

She opened her eyes, light rushing towards her, a face opening up in front of her,

_Waverly Earp._

_~_

_She’s waking up._

Nicole’s eyes fluttered open, her eyes landing on Waverly’s, soft and deep and rich as the sea, a slight smile came to her lips. For a moment there was nothing else in the world but Waverly’s eyes. For a moment she was in heaven.

And then there were five.

Five people standing over her, staring down, crooning over her like a baby in a crib. She felt small. She struggled, her alarm signals going off, quickly realising her hands and legs were bound, tied to the bed, as she struggled to get through, kicking about, her heart racing faster, her hands gripping the steel edges of the bed.

She felt Waverly place a hand on her shoulder. A wave of peace. She stopped kicking.

Her eyes scanned the people in front of her.

On Waverly’s right was another girl, her hair tied tight into a high ponytail, her head half tilted in a smirk, also insanely attractive (what did they put in the water down here?) and to her left, a man, his hair curly, a smile cracking over his face,

“Jeremy Chetri,” he said, holding out his hand as if her hands weren’t bound, as if she could just reach out and shake it, as if she wasn’t a goddamn _hostage,_ his goddamn hostage no less.

“Jeremy,” a voice hissed from the corner, “we don’t introduce ourselves to our _enemies,”_

Nicole turned. There she was again, her back pressed against the corner of the wall, her hair falling down her shoulders in waves too perfect to be real, leather jacket matching leather pants, her face half in the darkness. Nicole immediately felt herself tense, her eyes narrowing, a steely expression falling over her face.

“You,” she whispered,

“Me?” Wynonna said, pretending to be flattered, her wide smile revealing her perfectly sharp fangs, crisp white.

“You’re a cold-blooded killer,” Nicole hissed, writhing on the bed,

“Hmm I think that’s what they’re now calling fake news,” the girl grinned, tilting her head, her fangs every visible. Nicole felt sick.

“You’re a _murderer,_ ” Nicole spat, feeling the rope burn against her ribs, feeling it tighten against her ankles, but continuing to struggle none the less, every fibre in her body screaming _run._

“I think that’s quite enough out of you,” came a voice from the corner, a deep, low southern drawl. He emerged from the shadows, hat cocked on his head at a perfect 45-degree angle, coat sweeping out behind him, moustache twitching as he spoke, a toothpick protruding from the left side of his mouth.

He smiled wide at her. There they were again, fangs, pointed, perfectly white. _She was in a vampire den._ She’d heard of them, never seen them. Did that mean they were all vampires? Did that mean Waverly was too?

“Monster,” she growled, feeling the anger burn in her throat.

His eyes flickered,

“I said, that’s quite enough out of you,” he said, pulling a syringe out of his pocket, and plunging it once more into Nicole’s neck.

She felt herself go still, something cold and warm all at once running through her veins. All she saw was Waverly’s eyes before she was gone again, and everything was dark.

~

The ice formed again and she felt herself plummet deeper and deeper into the ocean below, completely powerless as she slipped further from the surface, almost in slow motion, the dark water swirling, claiming her for its own.

The light was fading.

_I don’t think that was strictly necessary,_

_She was fighting us, she works for Bobo,_

_Exactly, we need her for information, you didn’t need to puncture her in the goddamn neck,_

_Just cause you’re sweet on her,_

_It’s got nothing to do with that, she’s no good to us unconscious_

_So you admit it?_

_Fuck off,_

_They’re going to notice she’s missing soon enough, and then they’ll come for us, we need her information and we need it now_

_She’s got a point there_

Nicole could feel herself being carried once more, the waves lifting her up, lapping around her ankles, pushing her forward. She was still, more still than she’d ever been. The ocean was all around her, the ocean _was_ her. A second layer of skin. And just above the ice she could see the light, soft and distant.

She stared at that light. And the light stared back. She could reach out and touch it. But she didn’t.

For once in her life she stayed still.

_She’s never going to wake up,_

_Oh she’ll wake up, baby girl don’t you worry, you should be more worried about what’ll happen when she does,_

_She won’t hurt us,_

_You trust too much,_

Nicole was swimming now. No longer floating, the cold, cold water seizing her muscles, wrapping itself around her skin, around her arms. But this time, Nicole fought back. The fire had relit itself and was burning bright under the water. Fire meet ice. She could see that crack, and she wanted it, she wanted survival. The little girls’ bodies flashed before her eyes, necks twisted, splattered with blood, and her gaze narrowed. The fire of a thousand suns burned in her veins and she felt her foot kick, breaking free of the chains. She could see that pinprick of sunlight. And she wanted it. She kicked again, opening her eyes fully, feeling the water burn, feeling alive. She could see the surface. She was going to get there, she was going to get there. She could hear their words more clearly,

_Did you see the way they were displayed? It’s a clear sign, straight from Bobo himself._

Their voices wrapped around her ears like conch shells whispering her the secrets of the sea. No longer dreams and waves, but actual voices. The ice was so close now, the sunbeam was no longer a pinprick but a stretched flood of light.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and with one final push, she reached out her hand and slammed it against the ice.

Her eyes shot open.

“Waverly?” she croaked, salt water burning against her throat.

“You’re awake,” Waverly said. She seemed to glow. _The light._

For a moment she felt completely safe, at ease, drifting on a cloud. And then she realised her hands were tied, again, this time to a chair. She began to struggle again, each movement making the rope tighter around her wrists.

“Wy,” Waverly shouted, “she’s awake,”

The light was speckled. Not only light.

Wynonna drifted around the corner,

“Good,” she said, pulling a chair up and sitting directly opposite Nicole.

This room was even darker than the last one, the only light was coming from one bare bulb, swinging above them. There seemed to be no windows. It was definitely a million miles away from the cosy homely vibe of the homestead. She wondered where they were. She wondered how far this _organisation_ went, if you could call it that. She had seen five faces, were there only five people or had she stumbled across a whole other underground network? In New York anything was possible.

“Stop overthinking and focus on me,” Wynonna said, leaning forward, placing her elbows on her knees as she looked directly at Nicole, Waverly hovering just slightly behind her. To her left she could see a one-way mirror, something that was more than familiar to Nicole, she’d been on both sides of one of those. She wondered who was on the other side. She wondered who was watching her.

“Who are you?” Wynonna said, her voice harsh and Nicole began to struggle, trying to rid herself of the ties that held her hands behind her back,

“You won’t get them undone,” she laughed, “so you might as well not bother,” she paused, “I’m asking you one more time, who are you?”

“None of your goddamn business,” Nicole said, matching Wynonna, gaze for gaze,

“I thought you might say that,” Wynonna said, baring her fangs, and twirling a gun in her right hand,

“Hey no shooting,” Waverly said, stepping forward.

_Good cop, bad cop._ Nicole had seen it a thousand times before, hell she had done it a thousand times before.

“We want information, you probably want information,” Waverly said softly, “There’s no reason this has to be violent,” she placed a hand on Nicole’s shoulder. She felt immediately at ease, a softness rolling its way through her body, her shoulders falling back, her whole face relaxing, until it felt like they were the only two people in the whole world.

“Nicole Haught,” she said with a sigh, “The name’s Nicole Haught,”

_How did she do that?_ One touch from Waverly and she was spilling all her secrets.

“Haught?” Wynonna said, cracking up, “Oh that’s priceless, I like your parents already,”

“I don’t” Nicole whispered, and Waverly shot Wynonna a stern stare.

“There we go,” Waverly said, “I’m Waverly Earp, this is my sister Wynonna,”

“That doesn’t count as an exchange of information, I already knew that,” Nicole hissed indignantly, moving sharply when Waverly attempted to put her hand on her shoulder again. “You can do your innocent act until the cows come home,” she spat, “I don’t trust you for a second, you held a _crossbow_ against my _neck,”_ she hissed, writhing once more, the rope chafing against her wrists,

“You held a _stake_ against my sister’s _heart,”_

“Your _sister_ is a _vampire,”_

“Didn’t figure you for a bigot, Haught,” Wynonna smirked, raising her eyebrows, “Love is love and all that,”

Nicole fought against the ropes, nearly tipping herself forward on the chair, rage burning in her veins,

“This isn’t the same and you know it,” she said, her words rattling with venom, “you’re a _killer,”_

“Actually, no,” she leant forward, “but _you_ are,” Wynonna said, smirking, licking her lips and relishing the anger that flared in her eyes,

“I kill demons,” Nicole hissed, “I kill filthy monsters like _you_ ,” she spat, “doesn’t count,”

“Ah, Waves, did you hear that?” Wynonna said, feigning surprise, “I’m a filthy monster, did you know?”

Waverly only rolled her eyes,

“You killed three small girls,” Nicole hissed, “and god knows who else, that makes you a demon in my book,” she growled, “that makes you _unforgiveable,”_

“Haught’s getting all righteous on us,” Wynonna’s eyes widened, “as a matter of fact,” she leant closer, so her forehead was practically pressed right against Nicole’s, “no I didn’t kill three small girls, but your precious boss did,”

Nicole felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, a bead of sweat forming across the top of her forehead. She itched to move, wipe it away, her wrists rubbed once more against the rope. She could feel herself straining against her cage.

“I don’t have a boss,” she spat, a last-ditch attempt. But she _did_ have a boss, she spoke to _someone_ on the phone, right?

“Your own boss, women power 2018, love it,” Wynonna grinned, “but the fact is you do have a boss,” she took a long pause, licking her lips deliciously, as if she relished this, as if she was _feeding_ on it, “you work for one Bobo Del Rey,”

Nicole’s eyes widened, “I do _not,”_ she felt her heart quicken, “I’ve never seen him, I hadn’t even heard his name before yesterday,”

Wynonna paused, running her eyes over Nicole’s face as if she were trying to find any hint of a lie.

“A demon hunter in New York who’s never heard of Bobo Del Rey?” she shook her head, “Weak,”

Nicole stayed silent. She felt bile rising in her throat, her heart was quickening; racing and thumping through her veins, tapping at her skin, desperate to erupt. She scrunched her eyes shut.

“Well let me ask you this then,” she said, leaning forward, “who do you work for?”

And Nicole was done. Her world had been turned upside down too many times in the last 72 hours, and now here she was tied to a chair in front of a vampire, and she was starting to question whether _she_ herself was the bad guy. She was being held hostage. She had no idea what day it was, what time it was. She’d been pulled in and out of the water. Her ankle still hurt from two days ago, her heart still hurt from the day before, anger and guilt still swarmed her body like an invasion. And then there was Waverly Earp. Waverly Earp who was the prettiest person she’d even seen in her life. Waverly Earp who radiated warmth and light like the goddamn sun. Waverly Earp who touched her and made her feel like a peaceful dandelion seed, caught on the breeze. Waverly Earp who’d held a crossbow to her neck, who’d knocked her unconscious, who’d held her hostage in a dark room, whose sister was a vampire.

Nicole was so goddamn tired.

“I don’t know,” she felt herself collapse forward in the chair, a small tear leaking from her eye, “I don’t know anymore.”

“I think that’s enough,” Waverly said softly, and Nicole felt her hands being untied, as she stood up, her feet being untied from the chair.

“For precaution,” she said, slipping handcuffs back over Nicole’s already sore wrists. She hobbled a little, her ankle shooting pain as she tried to walk, Waverly guiding her, her hand on her back. Wynonna leant back against the wall as she watched them leave.

~

Waverly guided them down two hallways before they reached a door, big and cold and metal, another prison. But when Waverly pushed it open, the inside was warm, inviting, far from the cell she was expecting. The bed was made, complete with orange and yellow cushions, and a plush duvet with orange spots, which upon closer inspection appeared to be cats, cats playing with yarn, cats yawning, cats asleep under the sun. There was even a small bookshelf complete with titles such as _meditation for the mind and soul, 101 ways to feel positive,_ and even a copy of _Alice in wonderland._ Nicole’s heart lurched a little remembering her childhood favourite. Remembering herself wishing day after day, night after night, that she too could find a magic door to a better place, that she too could find a white rabbit to take her far, far away. _Be careful what you wish for._

“Wynonna let me decorate,” Waverly said as she shut the door behind her, as if this provided any explanation as to why there was a nice, normal, guest bedroom it what had previously seemed to be an underground demon bunker. _It had been a weird day._

“Here, you can sit there,” Waverly said, pointing to the bed. “The bathroom’s just there,” she gestured towards a white wooden door on the other side of the room. She produced a key from her pocket, sliding it into the lock on the handcuffs and removing them, wincing at the welts on Nicole’s wrists.

“Those look sore,” she whispered, looking up at Nicole, and Nicole could only nod. She was tired, bone tired, soul tired. She felt as if small parts of her soul had been left behind, dripping from her like a leaky tap, like breadcrumbs for someone to find her. _Except no one would._

“I can fix them,” Waverly said softly, sitting on the floor in front of Nicole, “your ankle too, if you want,” she looked up at Nicole, her eyes warm and Nicole nodded again, the tiredness buried deep into her bones, a burrowing rabbit.

Waverly placed both hands on her outstretched ankle, closing her eyes, and Nicole felt a tingle go through her she could only describe as warmth, as light trickling through her veins. She leant back against the wall.

“What’s happening?” she said, staring down at Waverly, her face still in complete concentration.

“Sssh,” Waverly said, removing her hands, tilting her head to get a better look at her ankle, “stand up,” she said, motioning to Nicole, “try walking on it,”

Nicole frowned, but stood up none the less, placing weight on her foot, but the expected pain never came. Instead, she felt absolutely fine, lighter than air. She rolled her ankle, stepping on it more forcefully, but still nothing.

Her eyes widened as Waverly stood up, she captured Waverly’s hands with her own, staring into her eyes,

“What are you?” she whispered,

A beat of silence, a small smile spreading across Waverly’s face.

“An angel,” she replied.

_You could say that again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, and pls leave a comment if you can it means so much + really helps with motivation (also I just like feedback, I like to know what u thought!)   
> If u wanna talk my tumblr is waverlysangels and my twitter is waverlysangel  
> hope u have a nice day!  
> (lol also waverly is an angel .... shocker am i right)


	4. Chapter 4

Nicole had a brief memory of Waverly’s face before she’d fallen asleep, of Waverly’s smile as she shut the door behind her, of Waverly’s eyes, deep and gentle like the sea. But when she woke up she was alone. Light was drifting through a window she hadn’t even noticed was there the night before. She stretched, still feeling lighter than air, her normal pain had disappeared, her ankle wasn’t throbbing, her back didn’t click, her head wasn’t spinning and thumping. _Brand new._ Born again. It would be eerie if it wasn’t the best Nicole had felt in a long time.

The light swirled almost swaying in the morning breeze, and Nicole felt herself wanting to sway with it.

She really had no idea what she had stumbled into.

Waverly was an _angel._

The organisation had sent her to kill an _angel._

The organisation was supposedly renowned demon king Bobo del Rey.

Nicole could only laugh, the facts floating in front of her like hoverflies, buzzing. What else was there to do _but_ laugh when your entire world had been turned on its head?

The door opened,

“Are you laughing, Haught?”

It was Wynonna, leaning against the doorway, her arms crossed, eyebrows raised. She was once more dressed head to toe in leather even though the sun had barely just risen. Nicole imagined she never worn anything else, maybe she had been sown into it, like Sandy from grease.

“Maybe, Earp.”

She tried to resist the urge to shy away from Wynonna, to press herself into the corner of the wall, to find any sharp object she could, to formulate a plan to stake in her in the heart as she had done so many times before. Wynonna had not yet tried to kill her (just knock her unconscious a few times.) She could have killed her. But she _hadn’t_. A vampire who had thoughts, who was capable of resistance, who was more than just bloodlust. Nicole’s whole world had been turned on its head. If there were angels, and demons who fought _each other,_ then what was stopping Wynonna, _a vampire,_ from being a ‘good guy’.  But old habits die hard, and Nicole still wasn’t sure if her habits were indeed ‘old’, for all she knew Wynonna was still planning to kill her. Her heart beat faster and she felt her eyes shift subconsciously to Wynonna’s mouth as she talked, her eyes fixated on the fangs, on the way Wynonna stood in the darkness, her body curled away from the shaft of light. 

“So we’re having breakfast,” Wynonna said,

“And?”

“And I’m inviting you to breakfast, dipshit,”

“You’re _inviting_ me? Your hostage? To _breakfast?”_ Nicole’s eyes widened. _I guess,_ she thought. It wasn’t as if her week could get any weirder.

“You heard me, get dressed, I’ll be outside,”

“But why?” Nicole said, sitting up in her bed,

“Waverly reckons if we’re just all honest we’ll all get what we need,” Wynonna paused, shrugging, “and she’s normally right so,”

Nicole shook her head, smiling,

“Fair enough,”

~

When Nicole walked into the dining room five sets of eyes swivelled to stare at her.

The dining room was, to her surprise, also homely. A long, oak table taking up the majority of the room, eight high-backed oak chairs parked around it. The wallpaper was light blue, engraved with a soft, floral pattern and there was a kitchen cabinet that looked straight out of Nicole’s grandma’s house (even if it was filled with paper plates instead of fancy china) Her eye turned to a wall covered in photos, Waverly and Wynonna as children, their faces a little less gaunt than the picture Nicole had previously seen. And more current pictures too, the pair of them laughing on a bed, groups of people smiling, sticking their tongues out, _normal_ pictures. For not the first time, Nicole wondered where the hell she was. Originally, she’d assumed it was a bunker, temporary, a hiding place. But nothing about the room she was now stood in screamed temporary, this was a _home._ This was a home for a family not a hiding spot for a group of rogue demons. Not for the first time she wondered how long they’d lived down there, and _why?_

Of course, there was also plenty to suggest this wasn’t a normal dining room. For starters there was only a small window right at the top of the wall, and the shutters were firmly shut (Nicole guessed that was for Wynonna, and any other vampires she supposed were lurking about the accommodation), and then there was a giant board, stretching all along one side of the room, filled with pictures and maps, pieces of string connecting them together exactly like Nicole’s old research board at the police station. Evidence of planning, evidence that this was a small, underground organisation. She tried to scan it, to read it, but she was too far away, she made a mental note to try and read it later. And finally, the main thing setting it apart from being a normal family dining room, were the demons, all sat around the table, and all staring right at her.

“Are you going to sit down or what?” Wynonna said, her mouth filled with croissant, “We won’t bite,”

“We could,” the other girl grinned, her hair still pulled back into a ponytail, “but we won’t. Probably.”

Waverly rolled her eyes, pulling out the chair next to her and patting it, motioning for Nicole to sit down.

Nicole sat down awkwardly on the edge of the seat, all eyes on her. It was painfully silent for a moment.

“Right,” Waverly said softly, “I guess we should probably start, seen as we kidnapped you and all,”

“Probably,” Nicole said, her voice still on edge, her hands still pressed firmly against the table.

“Circle time,” Wynonna raised her eyebrows, grinning, “we’ll all introduce ourselves, name, place of birth, type of monster,” she laughed, “you know the standard stuff,”

“I’m surprised you even went to school long enough to know what circle time is,” Doc scoffed, an eternal cigarette perched in the corner of his mouth,

“Fuck you,” Wynonna shook her head, “you don’t even have a leg to stand on, mister I-went-to-school-in-the-nineteenth-century,”

Nicole’s eyes widened.

“Well now you’re just spoiling the story,” he drawled in his slow southern accent, he turned to face Nicole, “I’m Doc Holliday, from Georgia, yes that Doc Holliday,” he grinned, clearly enjoying the spotlight, “famous cowboy turned immortal vampire,”

He watched Nicole shudder when he said vampire, her fists tightening subconsciously.

“I guess I should probably apologise for the other day,” he took a drag of his cigarette _inside_ earning himself a death glare from Waverly Earp himself, “but in my defence you were talking mighty ill of my family,” he cocked his head, and Nicole stared him down.

“Yes, he’s always like that,” the other girl stepped in, rolling her eyes, “I guess I’m next, Rosita Bustillos, Arizona, witch,” she smiled, widely, and Nicole’s eyes shifted to Jeremy, who was practically bouncing up and down in his seat,

“She can cause fires with her mind,” he said excitedly, “Jeremy Chetri.” he tried to extend a hand to Nicole despite the fact she was at the opposite side of the table, quickly removing it and placing it back under the table. He reminded Nicole of a puppy, rambunctious and excitable. Although, like a puppy, she guessed he probably had a bite. 

“Although I guess you already knew that,” he continued, “I’m from Toronto originally, and I’m a mutant, I guess,”

Wynonna rolled her eyes, “He desperately wants to be in X-men,”

“Who wouldn’t?!” Jeremy said excitedly, his eyes widening, and Nicole didn’t miss the fond smile that Waverly gave him. _God that smile could make the flowers grow._

“Well that’s us,” Waverly said, turning her smile around to face Nicole, “you already know about me and Wy, we’re a part of the resistance, I guess, a task force trying to stop Bobo Del Rey,”

She looked at Nicole, seeking any sort of reaction. But Nicole figured she was numb to it by now, your world can only be tipped on its head so many times, after all.

“Your turn, Haught,” Wynonna said, taking a sip of her coffee.

All eyes were on her.

“Um, Nicole Haught, from New York, ex-cop and I guess demon hunter.”

She couldn’t get over the absurdity of the situation, here she was, at a table full of demons who probably should be evil but who were apparently not in fact evil, and she was introducing herself as if she were at camp, introducing herself specifically as a killer of their kind no less. At some point she’d stumbled into some kind of crazy Tim Burton direct Netflix series. Nothing made sense anymore. Her fingers felt numb.

“And you were hunting Waverly?” Wynonna leaned closer, placing her elbows on the table

“I was sent here to kill Waverly, yes,” Nicole said, speaking slowly, tentatively, deliberately avoiding Waverly’s gaze.

“By who?”

Nicole took a breath, “I don’t know who the organisation is, they send me targets, demons, and I kill them,” she said,

“You kill people and you don’t even know why?” Wynonna said, tilting her head,

“Not people, demons,” Nicole said, as if this would improve her image with a bunch of demons,

“Well as long as it’s _demons,_ ” Wynonna rolled her eyes, “but as you well know, I hear, Waverly’s not a demon,”

“I know,” Nicole said, taking a breath, fidgeting with her hands below the table, picking at the skin on her thumbs, a small pool of blood forming, stretching across her nail bed. _Waverly’s anything but a demon._

“I don’t know why they sent me Waverly,” she took another breath, “I guess I don’t know anything anymore,”

Waverly placed a hand over Nicole’s, and Nicole looked into her eyes, soft and brown, a lapping wave. She felt her heartrate slow, she smiled. Waverly had an ability to make her feel like there was no one else in the room, like she wasn’t currently being interrogated by her sworn enemy, like it was just the pair of them and a sweet summer breeze. _It was probably part of her angelic powers,_ Nicole thought, pulling her hand away and trying not to think about it too much.

“Whoever you’re working for has to be linked to Bobo,” Waverly said,

“It could just be Bobo,” Rosita added, sitting up a little straighter in her chair,

“I doubt it,” Waverly’s eyes darted towards the research board, “he must be working with an organisation, something official, something bigger,” she leaned back in her chair,

“Shit,” Wynonna said, “this is huge,”

“How long have you been working for them?” Waverly said,

“About two years,” Nicole said,

“Damn,” Wynonna said, running a hand through her hair,

“Can someone catch me up?” Nicole said, “Please? Who is Bobo, how do you know it’s him who sent me to you?”

“Bobo,” Wynonna said, exasperated, “is _the_ demon kingpin on New York, his gang terrorises the city, killing innocents, collecting power.”

“He’s constantly expanding,” Waverly added, “He wants more power, more control, if he’s working with an organisation, it’s bad news.”

“How do you know it’s him?”

“The girls,” Wynonna said softly, casting her gaze to the floor, “it’s his sign, his warning to us, he’s done it before,”

Nicole flashed to the first three girls she saw, their necks twisted, eyes cold and dead. _This has been going on for a long time._ That was Bobo too? She’d been linked to him and the Earp sisters for that long?

“Why three girls?”

“It mirrors us,” Waverly said softly, “we had a sister her name –“ she stopped, Wynonna shooting daggers at her, “well it doesn’t matter, the point is he probably used the girls to lure you to us, planted them so he knew we’d be at the scene, so it looked like Wynonna had killed them,”

“To make sure he looked like the righteous one, to make us look like the demons you already thought we were,” Wynonna shook her head, laughing slightly, “that’s politicians for you, slimy bastards,” she spat onto the floor, swigging the orange juice as if she hoped it was really whiskey, as if she needed something stronger.

“He’s a politician?” Nicole asked,

“Hoping to be, if he gets his way,” Waverly added,

Nicole shook her head, “So Bobo hacked the organisation I was working for, to send me you, to get me to kill you,”

Waverly fell silent and Nicole turned to look at Wynonna,

“Most likely the organisation has been in cahoots with Bobo the whole time,” Wynonna said, her eyes fixed on Nicole’s.

Nicole fell silent, trying to process her words.

“It can’t have been,” she shook her head defiantly, “I’ve been killing demons, they’ve all definitely been demons,” she said, her voice rising, “this was a _one-time_ thing,”

“We’re all demons,” Wynonna said, firmly, “doesn’t make us evil, most likely the organisation had you killing demons working against Bobo, or demons who did wrong by Bobo, had you acting as his own personal assassin,”

“No,” Nicole said, standing up from her chair now, hearing it smashing into the floor behind her, “I’ve been killing demons, evil demons, killer demons,” she spat venomously, hoping that if she said the words loud enough she herself would believe them.

“You’ve been killing innocents,” Wynonna spat, the glimmer in her eye enough to restart the fire in Nicole’s stomach. Those three girls, their bright white dresses splattered with blood, their hands ghostly white, _they were innocents._ Her targets were not innocents. To compare them… bile rose in her throat. She felt herself lunge across the table, attempting to grab Wynonna by the throat, swinging and missing, accidentally pushing the plate of croissants to floor, the metal clattering like a cymbal.

“Hey,” Waverly shouted, attempted to grab Nicole by the arm, but Nicole shook her off easily,

“Enough of your voodoo magic,” she yelled, making direct eye contact with Waverly, watching her eyes flicker with sadness, trying to ignore the way it tied her stomach in knots, “and enough of you,” she glared at Wynonna, her eyes narrowing, “you’re a vampire for fucks sake, you kill for fun, you’re a sadist, why should I listen to a word you say,” she could feel herself shaking now, anger radiating from her skin like heat, “you probably killed those three girls back there, you probably even killed the three girls three years ago, in fact all of this is probably some sick fucking long-haul plan to kill me,” she shouted.

There was no going back now, the anger had consumed her. She was rising, higher, higher, a hot air balloon.

Wynonna’s eyes sparked, filling with a rage Nicole had rarely seen before, as she opened her mouth her fangs extending, protruding from her dark red lips, she tilted her head, cracking her neck both ways,

“Don’t you dare,” she said, her voice low and grating, “don’t you dare fucking talk to me like that, and don’t you dare tell me I killed those children, you know absolutely nothing about me,” she moves towards Nicole, slow and steady, her eyes fixed on her like prey, a vein protruding from her neck.

“I know a killer when I see one,” Nicole’s voice was low, almost animal like,

“Hey maybe we should all calm down,” Nicole heard Jeremy say, but she wasn’t paying attention anymore, her eyes were fixed on Wynonna. There was nothing but the two of them. Nothing but the fight, the kill. They’d both done this before.

“Calm down?” Wynonna scoffed, “She’s been killing for him for years, she’s been working _against_ us, god knows who she’s killed,” she growled,

Waverly stood up attempting to place herself between the two of them, but Wynonna glared at her,

“Sit back down baby girl, this has nothing to do with you,”

“Of course it does Wy!” Waverly said, crossing her arms, not intervening but not sitting back down either, “It’s to do with all of us,”

Nicole reached across the table, food now scattered, grabbing a bread knife from the table, feeling it’s blade against her palm. It wasn’t _her_ knife but it would have to do.

“Ah god,” she heard Jeremy say, “we shouldn’t put knives within reaching distance from our killer hostage, that’s like rule number one, we’re _idiots_ ,” she could hear his voice raise an octave higher but she was no longer paying attention, her eyes had narrowed, Wynonna was all she could see now.

Wynonna moved closer towards Nicole,

“Want to try, Haught, huh?” she mocked, baring her fangs once more, circling her,

“You make me sick,” Nicole spat,

“Ditto,” Wynonna said, lunging to bite Nicole’s neck, Nicole jabbing the knife into Wynonna’s lower side. She knew it wouldn’t do any damage but it was almost worth it just to see the pain spark in her eye, just to see the indignant flare of anger.

“That’s enough!” Waverly said, raising her hand, and Nicole felt herself being flung backwards, her back hitting the kitchen wall and sliding down until she was crumpled on the floor. Wynonna was the same, both of them at opposite sides of the room, both still frothing at the mouth. But Nicole’s head hurt, she could feel some of her anger leaking into the floor below.

_Waverly had thrown them to the floor._

“How did you do that?” Nicole said, moving her hand to clutch at the back of her head, where a small amount of blood had started to pool.

“It doesn’t matter!” she said, her voice loud and booming, even Wynonna seemed to shrink a bit in her presence, even Wynonna seemed to prick her ears up and listen. Waverly wasn’t the kind of person you screwed over easily. “I will not tolerate any more fighting! We can talk civilly or not at all,” she scowled at both of them, moving to pick the croissants up from the floor, and sitting back down at the table, taking a measured sip of her orange juice.

For a moment Nicole considered sitting back at the table, but then Wynonna looked at her, tilting her head, grinning at her again with those sharp fangs, bright white. And it was too much, she could _never_ talk civilly with a vampire. She had vowed three years ago to kill every vampire in New York, and just because said vampire’s sister happened to be the _prettiest girl she’d ever seen_ with _magical angel powers_ that made her feel like she was _walking on air_ , didn’t mean she was going to make Wynonna an exception.

“Well then I choose not at all,” she spat, standing up, her head a little woozy, shooting once last glance at Wynonna before spinning on her heel, marching back down the hallway.

It wasn’t until she reached the door of her room that she realised it was mighty difficult to dramatically walk away from someone when you were, in fact, said person’s hostage and you were dramatically stalking away to the cell they were keeping you in.

Her life was a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thanks for reading, I wanted to upload this earlier but there was an error? I'm not sure if they'll be a chapter next week my motivation is waning and people don't really seem to be reading this, but we'll see.  
> I'm also not sure how I feel about this chapter? It seems a bit of an info dump/not that well written but I guess it is what it is now.  
> Please please leave a comment if you enjoyed it means a lot to me!  
> If you want to follow me/chat my tumblr is waverlysangels and my twitter is waverlysangel  
> Hope you have a nice day!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaack, updates should be back to every sunday! I've really enjoyed writing this chapter (and the next one is written too already), so hopefully should have the motivation to continue!

“Wynonna hates vampires as much as you, you know,”

It was Waverly, leaning against the doorway, her eyebrow arched, the light from the small upper (prison) window falling on her _just so_ forming a small halo around her head. She seemed to be glowing. Nicole guessed that what angel blood could do for you.

Nicole was in a mood.

She’d stormed back to her room, anger boiling off her like smoke, she’d hit the wall a few times, the blood on her knuckles now drying, dripping down her hand, forming a trail. She wanted to run through land, under the open skies, she wanted it to thunder, she wanted to _feel the rain on her skin_ ( _no one else can feel it for you … only you can let it in,_ great now she was quoting Natasha Bedingfield songs). She wanted to howl at the wind and for the wind to howl back, but instead she was trapped in this small room, stewing. Most of her anger had melted now, into the cracks in the floor, into the darkened corners, and all she was left with was a sore throat and hurt knuckles, and an overwhelming sense of dread, so like what else was new?

“What?” Nicole said, sitting up a little, propping herself up on her non-existent pillow (note: if she was going to be staying here for much longer she would need to ask Waverly for a pillow)

“Wynonna – she hates vampires just as much as you,” Waverly said, “she’s been through a lot and she does not need you being awful to her too,” she said, folding her arms, her best stern look written across her face,

“I’m your hostage!” Nicole said, her best I’m-an-exasperated-teenager-and-I-don’t-want-to-clean-my-room-right-now-MOM voice on, “and she’s a demon!”

Waverly rolled her eyes, moving to sit in the armchair across from Nicole,

“Why do you hate demons so much?” her voice was soft as she leaned forward, and it reminded Nicole of the therapy Nedley had made her go to, of the ticking clock matching her bouncing leg, of the _neutral_ paintings of boats and seas that made her feel sick, of the way the woman pushed her glasses up precisely once a minute, _Nicole hadn’t lasted too long._ Except this time it was even more absurd, because what sort of question was that? Demons were, by their very definition, _evil_. They were made to be hated.

“They’re demons,” Nicole said pointedly,

“That’s not an answer,” Waverly leaned back, folding her arms again, with a look that said _I’ll sit here for as long as I have to._ And Nicole had to admit, with that stern little look upon her face, with the way the light was making her hair practically glow, Waverly looked damn adorable. She was trying not to think about it, her situation was bad enough without falling for her supernatural probably-straight captor, falling in love with her straight best friend had nothing on this.

Nicole sighed, “are you trying to unlock my backstory, Waverly Earp?” she smirked, sitting up, leaning against the back wall, pulling one knee up against her chest, the other leg dangling from the (prison) bed.

“Sure am,” Waverly smiled, “spill it,”

“Only if you promise to tell me yours,”

“Pinkie promise,” Waverly held out her pinkie finger and Nicole entangled her own finger with Waverly’s, feeling a small rush in her chest when their hands pressed together, trying to ignore the fact that her heart had definitely picked up pace.

“It started with a case,” Nicole started, feeling like their ought to be a campfire for the story she was about to tell, with smores and hot chocolate instead of a small ill-ventilated room with no pillows, “the death of three young girls,” she stared pointedly at Waverly and she swore she saw her take a small breath in, “I became somewhat obsessed by it, it haunted me, I couldn’t sleep, and Nedley, my old police Sheriff, kept telling me to let it go, but I couldn’t, so I stopped working the case at work and started working it at home, never sleeping, hardly eating, the full mile crazy,” Nicole laughed slightly, shaking her head, “and my research led me to a vampire cult, which made me think I was _definitely_ going crazy, but I staked them out anyway, and I followed them, I watched them pray on people, and I would stop them drinking people’s blood, but I never saw them do anything like what I’d seen that day,” she shook her head, and could feel her pace quickening again, now for a completely different reason, her hands starting to shake just a little, “but nevertheless I went to the police about it, and they called me crazy, suggested I take some time off, clear my head, they wouldn’t take me seriously at all, they mocked me,” she took another breath, “and like the wound to my pride was nowhere near the worst part, the worst part was these dead girls who showed up in my dreams  every night wanting justice, and _I_ knew who had killed them, they were never going to get justice unless I gave it to them,” she laughed a little, she hadn’t told this story often, and she was aware of the crazy that was laced into every sentence, she still half-expected Waverly to laugh in  that same cruel way everyone else had, cold and empty and unforgiving. Although she guessed if anyone was going to believe her story about vampires it was an angel whose sister also happened to be a vampire. “I ended up resigning over the matter, Nedley too, I think he’s retired in Hawaii now,” she continued, “I get a postcard every couple of months of some kind of beach scene,” she exhaled, looking up at Waverly for the first time since she’d started talking, feeling like she’d just served her up her heart, half expecting to see it in Waverly’s hands, beating. “That’s how I got to where I am now, hunting demons, living pay check to pay check, living off whiskey and rage,” she laughed again, “not a friend in the world,” she paused, “well one friend I guess,”

Waverly was looking directly at her, her face sympathetic but not in a pitying way, more than she genuinely seemed to care, it made Nicole a little bit weak. She leaned forward resting her chin against her knees, curling in on herself, unintentionally making herself smaller. Waverly shuffled closer to her, their faces closer now as she put a hand upon Nicole’s cheek, and Nicole felt that same wave of affection, her chest tightening in that same way,

“I’m sorry,” Waverly said softly, and her face was close enough that she could feel her breath upon her cheek. For a moment everything stilled just a little and Nicole’s heart pounded against her ribcage, as if it were trying to find it’s other, and Nicole stared into Waverly’s eyes for slightly too long, a drawn-out silence forming around them like a bubble. Nicole wanted to lean in and kiss her, but then she remembered the hand on her cheek, remembered that Waverly was if not a demon then at the very least _supernatural_ and not to be trusted (even if every cell in her body was screaming the opposite), she pulled away quickly, a small smile still written on her face,

“Your turn,” she said, leaning back against the wall, trying to will her heart to stop beating, trying to will herself to stay still, to stay an _appropriate distance_ away from the girl in front of her.

She saw a troubled look come across Waverly’s face, a small flash of darkness, disappearing as fast as it came. The kind of look that made Nicole want to reach out and hold her hand.

“My mother left when I was young,” Waverly started, “and from an early age Wynonna was all I had in the world, my daddy was mean to me, and of course as it turns out he wasn’t really my daddy, and my elder sister hated me nearly as much,” she took a breath, “and then there was an attack at the homestead,”

Nicole remembered it from the newspaper article, from those two small girls, their eyes wide, their hair messy, staring up at her through the print; _attack at homestead leaves two dead, two small children alive._ She shivered at the memory of it, those eyes like fishhooks, pulling her through the pages.

“a vampire attack,” she said pointedly, looking at Nicole as if waiting for her reaction, Nicole felt her eyes widen slightly. _Wynonna had been attacked by vampires?_ She supposed she didn’t often think about the pre-life of vampires, that vampires were once people with loves and lives and jobs and taxes, that they were fallen humans, cursed by the darkness. It was so easy to see them as wholly one thing, because after all if vampires were wholly evil and Nicole killed them, that made her wholly good. That made her a hero instead of a failure, instead of an unemployed screw-up. The guilt was in her throat again.

Waverly continued, “they killed my daddy, took Willa through a window, we found her later –“ Waverly swallowed, tears forming in her eyes,

_You don’t have to continue,_ Nicole wanted to say. But instead she moved closer to her, putting a hand on her knee.

“Let’s just say as bad as vampires can be – child vampires,” she shook her head, the tears still falling, “they’re something else entirely,” Nicole felt Waverly’s hand find hers, gripping it tightly, and she could feel her pulse through her palm, could feel the way it raced, matching hers beat for beat.

“Wynonna wasn’t bitten that day – obviously, she’s an adult – but we were targeted from that point onwards, we couldn’t live normal lives we had to leave everything we owned, disappear from the face of this earth. We had no money, some days I thought we might starve to death, we had nobody in this whole entire world. Wynonna tried to find work, she worked in bars and clubs despite being underage – honestly god knows what else she did –“ she choked up a little, “all I know is she got food for me – all I know is that I owe my life to her, I owe her a debt I can never repay,”

Waverly paused for a moment and Nicole squeezed her hand. The thought of those same two tiny children, starving, living underground, those same big brown eyes that looked into her eyes now, pained, death chasing them around every corner, was too much for Nicole, it made her heart hurt.

“Wy never gave up on Willa – she searched for her day and night, that’s how we met most of the guys, they were in similar situations, living underground, and they became family to us – Doc actually saved Wynonna, back on that day at the homestead, although she didn’t know it till later, he couldn’t save her the second time –“ Waverly started crying then, properly sobbing, and Nicole couldn’t help herself, she felt herself scoop Waverly up into her arms, felt herself let Waverly curl up against her, her body shaking, their hearts mere centimetres apart. And although Waverly was the _enemy_ and _inhuman_ Nicole couldn’t bring herself to care, she wrapped her arms around her and let her sob, and she felt her heart begin to melt a little.

~

They stayed up until the sun had been replaced by a moon; big, bold and beautiful, it’s beams spreading through the small window, making everything seem ethereal, placing them on an edge between reality and fantasy.

Waverly talked and talked, telling her how Wynonna had got bitten in an attempt to find Willa – how she’d found out Willa was Bobo’s right-hand woman, _his child bride._ A shudder passed over Waverly. She spoke about how seeing her own sister, perpetually trapped in her eleven-year-old body, blood dripping down her face, hand clutched in Bobo’s had made her physically sick. She still saw it in her nightmares, but not as often as she saw Wynonna’s eyes as Bobo had bit her, the way she’d spasmed, her eyes turning golden, how she’d dragged her body away after Bobo had assumed everyone had gone, how she’d carried her for sixteen blocks, in the pouring rain, through dark alleys, how she’d tied her up, fetching her blood from anywhere she could get it. Nicole could tell it was difficult for Waverly to speak about from the way her voice got lower, her eyes staying trained on the floor. She spoke about how Doc had trained Wynonna, slowly but surely, to give up human blood, to control her bloodlust. She told her about how Wynonna had been in so much pain, but she’d done it all for her, how they’d given up everything for each other over and over again. She didn’t look at Nicole as she said it, and Nicole got the sense that this had been bottled up for a long time, she felt Waverly’s body relax against her, as if there was a spool inside her unwinding, the words, the emotions finally free to the elements. She’d wiped away Waverly’s tears as she cried, cradled her face in her hands, as she let her spill out years’ worth of anguish, the pain materialising, filling up the dark corners.

 And then Nicole told her some stuff about herself. Silly stuff, like confronting a boggart, light spilling from her mouth to chase away some of the dark corners. Like how when she was younger she wanted to be a cowboy, and she wore her cowboy boots so often the soles wore away. And about her imaginary friend Timmy, a spaceman who was a apart of all her adventures. She tried to make Waverly smile, to see that small light glow again. She didn’t mention her neglectful parents, her alcoholism, instead she mentioned the way she tripped at graduation, the time she’d been caught by her first girlfriend’s parents, how she once accidentally killed a friends’ goldfish and rushed out to the pet store to buy another one, and how her friend told everyone graham lived to 12 years old and that _it was a miracle._ Waverly was smiling by the end, glowing once more in Nicole’s arms, and Nicole swore she could feel herself radiating again, the pair of them trapped inside a shimmering bubble, perfectly warm despite the chill in the air. A flat line; content. Except there was something else pulling at her, because Waverly’s lips were right there, and she wanted to lean in so badly, wanted to feel their softness, wanted to place her hand on Waverly’s cheek, but instead she just asked,

“How _did_ you end up making money in the end?”

But Waverly simply crumpled her brow, “I’m tired,” she said softly, burrowing her head into Nicole’s chest, “is it okay if we sleep now?”

And Nicole felt herself unable to deny her. _Whipped already,_ she could almost hear Dolls say. And he would be right. But he wasn’t here, and so she let Waverly settle against her, wrapping an arm around her torso.

“Of course,” she smiled softly, wishing she could add _baby_ into the sentence, instead settling for clutching Waverly a little tighter.

Nicole’s eyes were heavy with the emotions of the day, and before she knew it, she too was asleep, the moonlight stretching across them both, curling around them, keeping them safe.

~

“Well well well,” Wynonna said, leaning against the doorway. Nicole woke up groggily, her eyes sewed together with sleep, her limbs feeling heavy, her brain foggy. There was something decidedly different though, she felt a heavy presence next to her, curled against her. She opened her eyes to see Waverly, still fast asleep, her hair spilling across the pillow, her face softened. Nicole felt herself sigh, not missing the way her heart seemed to skip a beat. She hadn’t even thought it were possible, she thought that these sorts of feelings were made up to make money off innocent teenagers, yet here she was, and she was sure her eyes resembled little love hearts. In the early light of the morning, her feelings were pure, one, definable thing, it took a little moment for the complexities to set it. _It’s the angel magic,_ she told herself, sitting up and accidentally nudging Waverly awake, her voice raspy and groggy,

“Good morning,” Waverly said,

“Good morning,” Wynonna echoed, and Nicole swore Waverly nearly jumped out of her skin,

“Wy-nonna,” Waverly said, her eyes widening with surprised as she glanced from her sister back to the way she and Nicole were entangled on the bed.

“Fraternising with the enemy I see,” Wynonna raised her eyebrows and Nicole could see a deep blush spreading across Waverly’s face as she shuffled further away from Nicole, and despite everything Nicole felt herself missing her warmth beside her.

“Over your little paddy are we Haught?” Wynonna grinned, and Nicole could see her fangs, sparkling just a little. She recoiled a little, unintentionally. It felt odd to see Wynonna in the morning light, still her old sarcastic self, dressed head to toe in leather, when she knew all these things about her now, when she knew all her little vulnerabilities, when she could imagine her as a child, starving and dirty, protecting Waverly with all she had. It was rather jarring. She was seeing Wynonna in a new light (even if she could never really see her in the light), here before her was a warrior of a woman, a woman who went to hell and back for her little sister, the very same little sister that was currently in Nicole’s bed. _Get your act together Haught._ Change was hard.

“Still not good enough for you, Haught? Still not happy?” she laughed, throwing her head back dramatically, “that’s rich,” she glanced back down at her and Waverly,

Nicole shook her head, “No, not that’s not it,” she sighed, “might just take some getting used to,”

“Oh mighty nice!” Wynonna said in her best fake southern accent, “thank you ever so greatly,” she switched back to her normal voice, “You’re sticking around then? Only fair really given you tried to kill my sister and are now banging her?”

Both Nicole and Waverly protested, “That’s not-“

But Wynonna cut them off, “I don’t need to hear it, point is we could use an assassin,”

“I’m not an-“ Nicole started but Wynonna raised her eyebrows again and Nicole trailed off. She guessed that’s what she was, even if the thought made her feel sick, made bile rise in her throat; _personal assassin to Bobo, demon king_ wasn’t exactly something she wanted on her resumé. Plus, god knows what the organisation would do to her now, assuming they knew she’d gone rogue. She couldn’t return to her apartment (god knows it didn’t feel like home anyway), and she’d have to watch her back at every turn. She needed a safe house, and Wynonna was offering her a safe house, she’d be a fool to say no (and this decision _definitely_ had nothing to do with the angel in her bed.)

“Fair enough,” Nicole sighed, “count me in,” she extended her hand,

“I’m not gonna cross the light to shake your hand red, you’re not _that_ cute,”

“Stop teasing her Wy,” Waverly rolled her eyes,

“Always knew you had a thing for red heads,” Wynonna grinned and Waverly stuck her middle finger up at her, “I’ll leave you to it, then,” she laughed, leaving the room,

~

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked, let me know your thoughts in the comments! I know this was a bit of an information dump, but I tried my best to make it interesting anyhow.  
> Hope you have a great day!  
> As always my tumblr is waverlysangels and my twitter is @waverlysangel   
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (also i wrote another oneshot whilst i took a break from this, feel free to read that!)


	6. Chapter 6

When Nicole and Waverly made it down to breakfast, they were standing deliberately far apart, but neither of them missed the smirk that passed across Wynonna’s face. It made Nicole blush a little, she wasn’t going to lie.

It was one thing to let your thoughts and feelings out in the middle of the night, the moon catching every whisper, absorbing it; to let a girl who you met two days ago (who you met two days ago when you were ordered to _kill_ her) curl up against you, to feel your two hearts beating together. All of that was fair enough in the dark, but in the _daylight_ , it was something else entirely, it was _real._ It was lay bare for what it was, it felt more _intimate,_ more raw. And with that came more complexities, with that came the part of Nicole that wanted to tell her that Waverly was still a _demon,_ that she should still reject her and all that she was. And Nicole had no idea how to deal with that. She tried to convince herself the night before was something of a fever, something induced by the angel dust running through Waverly’s veins. The cynical half of her wanted to declare it fake and move on, and the romantic daydreamer in her held that memory as precious and could still feel the magical effect hours later. _Magical._ Exactly.

She just couldn’t _snap out of it._

“Haught!” She heard Wynonna bark from across the room, “snap out of your daydream I’m trying to speak to you,”

It was only then that Nicole noticed that everyone was gathered together, wearing gear, the table covered in weapons, crossbows, guns and god knows what else. Nicole was sure she hadn’t seen so many weapons in her life. Had she been that lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed this a second ago? _She was slacking_. She tried to ignore the part of her that itched to hold a weapon, itched to be back in the field, itched for that kind of power. She felt constrained down there, in the tunnels, buried half way underground. Her leg was always bouncing, her feet always urging her to _run._ She never could keep still. A giant plan was written on the board, a plan that they were standing in front of, trying to shield it from Nicole.

“Why does it look like a scene from world war Z down here?” Waverly said, moving closer towards Wynonna,

“We’ve got a mission, baby girl” Wynonna said curtly, reloading the gun in her hands,

“And you’re going without me?” Waverly raised her eyebrows, and everyone avoided her gaze, “Have you forgotten that I can throw people across rooms with my mind?”

Wynonna rolled her eyes, still not looking up from where she was reloading the guns with more ammo, “Someone has to stay with Haught, seemed like you might already have that covered,” she smirked, “thanks for volunteering.”

Jeremy half sniggered behind his hand, Waverly shooting him a death glare,

“You’re really leaving me here?”

“It’s just recon, Waves,” Wynonna smirked, “besides someone needs to tidy this place up,” she gestured towards the plates that were stacked beside the sink,

“I could come with?” Nicole said, moving closer to Wynonna also,

“Good one,” Wynonna laughed, leaving through a bolted door to the left of the ‘big board’, one Nicole hadn’t noticed before.

“You can’t leave me trapped here forever!” Nicole shouted after her. She had started to forget what the sky looked like, her skin itched to feel the real heat on her skin, or the real cold, to see something that wasn’t the inside of a cage.

“I can try,” came a distant call from inside the hallway.

A bookcase had been pushed to one side, and Nicole guessed it had been hiding the door. The Earp girls didn’t mess around, when they made a secret bunker, they made a _secret_ bunker. It must have taken a while to work it all out, for all of their secret spilling in the darkness, there sure was still a lot she didn’t know about Waverly. And for someone whose job depended on it, she could be mighty unobservant sometimes. Or was it her ex-job? She didn’t really know where she stood anymore. Based on the darkness that Wynonna exited into, it didn’t seem to be the real exit anyhow, this place was a damn maze and Nicole still wasn’t sure whether she was the minotaur or Theseus, the damn walls were closing in and she was losing her mind.

“See you ladies,” Doc said, doffing his hat and closing the door behind him, leaving them all alone.

_Now what?_

~

Apparently _now what_ was washing up. What could she say the life of an assassin spy was an exciting one.

“Best get to it,” Waverly rolled her eyes, leading Nicole to the kitchen and turning the tap, the hot water starting to spill down, mixing with the washing up liquid to form perfect soapy bubbles, building higher in the sink.

There was something about watching the water that calmed Nicole, here was a mundane break in everything that had happened, something so starkly ordinary, she wanted to lap it up. She’d been living on the edge for so long, always on the brink of toppling over, but here was something familiar, something that reminded her that there was a normal, outside world where mums trailed supermarket aisles wishing for something more exciting. _Be careful what you wish for._

“I guess your angelic powers don’t stretch to doing chores for you,” Nicole quipped, and Waverly laughed, her entire face lighting up in the way it tended to, _joy-stricken._ Nicole felt herself melt just a little, “Not quite, unfortunately, sure would be helpful,” she grinned, “Rosie tried once, she tried to cook food with her mind, needless to say there was a small fire and Wynonna banned all attempts at magic inside the house,” she grinned once more at the memory, shaking her a little bit, “part of me just thinks she’s jealous, vampirism is no fun,”

Nicole scoffed, _you could say that again._

“Here,” Waverly said, tossing her a tea towel, “I’ll wash, you dry,”

She turned back to the sink, starting to load the dishes into the water.

“About last night,” she said softly,

_Here we go._

“If I told you too much I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offload on you,”

_Not what Nicole was expecting._

“It’s fine,” Nicole said, smiling warmly, and she _meant it._ Despite everything she had an urge to protect Waverly, to make her feel happy, feel safe, “I was being a jackass to Wynonna I see it now,” she half-laughed, trying to lighten the situation,

“It’s understandable, some vampires are scum, how were you to know,” Waverly smiled, she turned her head back to the sink, focusing a little too hard on scrubbing a (already clean) plate, “I haven’t spoken about that stuff ever,” she took a breath, and Nicole also focused on drying the (already dry) plate, “I couldn’t talk about it with Wynonna because, you know, we went through it together and everyone here has their own shit, we try to keep it light you know, I don’t really know what came over me,” she said, passing the plate to Nicole and making eye contact with her, seeming to shrink into herself a little bit,

“It’s fine Waves,” Nicole said, the nickname just slipping off her tongue naturally, not missing the way it made Waverly’s eyes light up just a little, “everyone’s got to talk to someone, or you’ll go crazy,” she said, motioning to the walls, “especially living in a box,”

“Sorry about that one,” Waverly said, leaning closer towards her.

“Are you apologising for keeping me hostage?”

“Maybe,” Waverly said smirking a little, moving to flick soap suds at Nicole, “I’m not apologising for that though,” she grinned, watching Nicole try to wipe the suds off the end of her nose, a wide grin cracking across her face.

“Oh, you are _so_ in trouble for that,” Nicole grinned, shaking her head and moving to scoop suds into her hands and throwing them back at Waverly. They landed in her hair as she turned around, squealing, pulling it from her hair and attempting to smear it all over Nicole’s face, Nicole recoiling and backing into the wall, grinning as Waverly ran away from her again. She scooped handfuls of water and threw them at Waverly until she was wet through, her hair dripping onto the tiles below, a grin plastered across her face. And it felt _nice,_ she felt happy and free and lighter than she had in quite some time.

And in that moment, all her doubts and questions about Waverly disappeared, and she allowed herself to look at her free of her preconceived notions, she was no longer a supernatural threat, she was just a girl. Questions of power and prejudice and morality went out of the window. She was looking at Waverly and her heart couldn’t take it anymore, she’d punished herself for long enough, she’d held back and not allowed herself to feel what she wanted to feel, and she was _over it._ She _liked_ Waverly, she liked the way her whole face lit up when she smiled, she liked the way she stood up for what she believed in, the way she’d stuck by her sister for years, she liked the way she laughed, she liked the way she remained positive despite everything she’d been through, she liked the way she forgave easily and loved hard, she liked the way her eyes glowed and glimmered, the way her chin jutted out when she was mad, she liked _her_.

She grinned, moving towards her, letting her hands wander, to hold Waverly’s face the way she’d been wanting to for the past few days, pressing them against the wall and feeling Waverly’s arms wrap around her waist, their bodies fitting together. Waverly smiled up at her, joy cracking through her face like morning light and Nicole matched it, smiling wide and pressed her lips against Waverly’s. And her mouth tasted like washing up liquid and warm water, but it didn’t matter because she was kissing Waverly, and she swore she could feel her glowing against her, her lips moving to smile into the kiss, her hands clutching just a little tighter at Nicole’s waist. Nicole swore her heart flipped just a little.

There was a cough from behind them, and Nicole broke away, spinning around and clutching for the (non-existent) knife at her side, on high alert.

“ _Dolls_?” she said, her eyes widening in surprise.

~

Waverly was still stood behind her, her hand still lingering on Nicole’s arm, and Nicole could see her eyes darting around for something to use as a weapon, settling on a block of knives by the side of the sink.

Dolls eyes darted from Nicole to Waverly back to Nicole again, raising his eyebrows,

“What are you doing here?” Nicole said in a hushed tone.

Time passed differently down here. Her life where she knew Dolls seemed like a million years ago, she’d lived and died nine times since then. Yet, here he was, in the flesh.

“Rescuing you?” he said, his hands still clutching his gun, pointed directly at Waverly’s head, and Nicole felt herself move subconsciously in front of Waverly, she may be Nicole’s kidnapper and have angelic powers to defend herself, but Nicole felt an urge to protect her, “doesn’t look like you need it though,” his eyes drifted to Waverly again, who was peeking from around Nicole’s shoulder.

“Uh, this is Waverly Earp,” Nicole said, stammering slightly, it was an odd situation, a clashing of worlds, Nicole could feel Dolls’ eyes, trained on her, judging her, it felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over her head, _what was she doing?_

She snapped as if out of a spell, all the joy from two minutes again replaced with the ever gnawing fears of demons. She could feel Dolls looking at Waverly, could hear him thinking. _Waverly Earp is dangerous._ And she wanted to scream at him, to tell him she _wasn’t_ a dangerous demon, sister of a dangerous vampire. But as she turned to look at Waverly, she wasn’t sure she could say that for 100% certainty. And that scared her.

“I know,” Dolls said curtly, his grip on the gun remaining tight,

“Um this is Dolls, uh Xavier Dolls,” Nicole said, stepping to the side, Waverly and Dolls now standing face to face,

“Agent Xavier Dolls,” he said curtly, and Nicole rolled her eyes,

“Fine, Agent Xavier Dolls,”

Waverly backed up just a little, and a flicker of fear passed across her face,

“You work for black badge?”

_How did she know that?_

Dolls didn’t answer, turning towards Nicole,

“Can we talk, in private?” he said, turning to glare at Waverly,

And Waverly’s eyes seemed to say _please don’t leave,_ but instead she just nodded, letting Nicole lead Dolls back to her room.

~

“What is this fucking Stockholm syndrome?” Dolls said angrily, slamming the door behind him, “I don’t hear from you for days, I go to your apartment and it’s been ransacked, and you’ve seemingly disappeared without a trace? I thought you were fucking dead, Nicole,” he raised his voice now, the vein in his neck protruding, his eyes widening. _This was bad._

“I was taken hostage, Dolls, that’s hardly my fault,”

“Yeah you seem to really be suffering,” he rolled his eyes so hard she was surprised they didn’t fall out of his head, “you know she’s a demon right, you know they all are?”

Nicole swallowed, “Well technically she’s an angel –“

That did not help the situation, Dolls seem to grow even angrier, getting bigger in stature, if that was even possible,

“Oh that makes all the difference!” he yelled, “She’s using you, Nicole –“

“But-“

“I don’t want any buts from you, you’re being dumb, and you _know_ it.”

And Nicole didn’t even know how to respond. She leant against the wall, the wall in her _prison cell,_ in her captor’s house, the same room her and Waverly had held each other all night long, the same room she wasn’t allowed to leave. _She was going crazy._ She’d allowed herself to get sucked into it, she’d allowed herself to be kept hostage by _demons_ by the _enemy,_ she hadn’t even _tried_ to escape – by god she was dumb. But then Waverly’s eyes flashed in front of her face – surely that couldn’t be wrong – surely that wasn’t what was happening. Waverly was pure light, it didn’t even seem like the darkness could touch her. _Was she being blind?_ Her heart was torn, and she felt exhaustion flutter behind her eyelids. It was too much and she just wanted to sleep. She shook her head, _of course that was what was happening._ She was a big fucking dumb lesbian, and she’d fallen hook line and sinker.

“Shit,” she said, taking a deep breath,

“Shit indeed,”

There was a moment of silence.

“How did you even get in here?” she said, looking back up at Dolls, his anger starting to dim now, the last embers flickering just a little,

“I’d do anything for you, you know that,” he grinned, “besides I have my ways,”

Dolls. Dolls was a true friend, he’d shown up for her time and time again, he’d never believed she was crazy, he always kept her in line and he _always_ supported her. Her friendship with Dolls was real. This thing with Waverly was not. These were _facts,_ she told herself, trying to ignore the bitter taste that left behind.

“I appreciate it,” she said, and there was a silence between them, “are we sure about Waverly though?” Nicole asked him, unable to help herself, regretting the words the moment they slipped from her tongue. Part of her already knew what he was going to say; that Waverly was a _demon_ who was using her, and part of her just couldn’t let go,

Dolls rolled his eyes, “And so the lion fell in love with the lamb,”

Nicole scoffed, laughing, “Did you just quote _twilight_ at me,” she broke apart laughing, practically doubled over, against the wall, “in a vampire lair,”

Dolls grinned, big and wide, and Nicole had _missed_ him. He was a brother to her, he was more like family than her actual family,

“Besides I would hardly call it love,”

Dolls rolled his eyes, “Come on even you should be able to see this, she’s using her powers Haught, her angelic powers, she has you under her thrall,”

_Dolls was usually right._

“She was there, you know,” Dolls said, and Nicole made direct eye contact with him, “the night of the incident, she was there,”

_Waverly hadn’t told her that. She’d spilled her heart out to her about that incident, and never once did she mention that. That had to make her at least partially guilty._

She looked straight at Dolls, the betrayal burning bright in her eyes.

“She was a witness, I found her statement, it had been removed from the official case, somebody had made it _disappear,”_ he said, grimacing.

Nicole was lost alone on a wide, wide sea. She lived in a castle full of lies, she loved in a castle full of lies. She was ready for someone to take her home.

Yet, there was still a part that tugged at her heart strings, that wanted her to stay, a part that was maybe angelic, that was maybe called Waverly Earp. She swallowed it down, forcing it further and further under the water, letting it sink to the bottom of her stomach like a wreck, long forgotten.

She felt an anger begin to coarse through her veins, starting a fire in her eyes, her face hardening,

“Fuck, we need to get out of here,” she spat, her voice practically sizzling. She was ready to down a whole bottle of whiskey, sleep for 16 hours and forget the whole thing, fuck knows maybe she’d get a job at a dead-end supermarket and thank her lucky stars she was no longer involved. Anything that distanced her from this _situation._

“Agreed,” he said, throwing an arm out and clutching at Nicole’s hand, pulling in for a half hug, “oh god I’m glad you’re not dead,” he said earnestly, and Nicole felt her heart strengthen,

“Me too, buddy, me too,” she looked into his eyes and grinned, “now let’s go,”

~

“I came through this ceiling vent,” Dolls said, motioning above them, “but seen as it’s only Waverly here, I don’t see why we shouldn’t just go through the door,”

“Can we do that?”

“It’s three sealed doors, only locked on the outside,” Dolls grinned, “like taking candy from a baby,”

“Got it,” Nicole grinned, “The door is this way,”

~

They made it to the kitchen, Waverly still sitting at the long dining table, twiddling her thumbs, picking at the skin on her fingers. She looked smaller than before, if that were possible.

She looked up when they walked in, her eyes big and brown and filled with emotion, and Nicole felt her resolve crack a little. _No, you’re stronger than this, Haught._

“Back so soon?” she said, quietly, her voice shaking just a little. _It’s a part of the act._

“We’re leaving,” Dolls said, his gun pointed at Waverly, his voice hardened, his resolve unwavering.

“You can’t do that,” Waverly said, standing up suddenly, and Dolls moved his gun to match,

“Don’t move, I’ll shoot,”

And Waverly’s eyes met Nicole’s. And she was scared. She was reaching out to Nicole, pleading, looking for some kind of comfort. Those same big eyes that had looked at her in the light of moon, that had told her all her secrets. _Had those been lies too?_

“Don’t move,” Nicole said, trying to keep her voice steady, cold, unfeeling, “ _Earp,”_ she added, for extra measure, pretending it didn’t break her heart a little to say it. And Nicole could see it reflected in Waverly’s eyes; _betrayal._ She had to look away.

She moved towards the door, turning the gear and opening it wide, revealing a long hallway ahead.

“Please don’t leave Nicole,” Waverly said. And Nicole turned around to see tears in her eyes. This was Waverly pleading, this was Waverly begging her not to go. She took a breath, and with one last look she turned and left anyway.

And despite all the powers in the world, Waverly let her go, let her walk through and door and into the darkness that lay beyond, and that might have been what hurt the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did this give u whiplash, bc writing it gave me whiplash !!  
> Thanks so much for reading, and thanks for all your comments on the last chapter it really means such a lot to me! Please let me know what you thought of this one!  
> As ever, if u wanna chat / follow me my tumblr is waverlysangels and my twitter is @waverlysangel  
> Hope u have a nice day!


	7. Chapter 7

“Not so fast,” Nicole heard a voice behind her, and the tell-tale click of a gun, “Seems we got ourselves some intruders, folks,”

Nicole span around to face Wynonna, her normally perfect hair filled with twigs and mud, her face coated in blood. But there was no time for questions, Wynonna’s eyes burned with anger (and the tiniest bit of hurt – a hurt that mirrored Waverly’s and didn’t fail to lodge itself in Nicole’s heart – just when did she get so invested in these people?)

“It’s Haught,” Wynonna said, the gang emerging out of the shadows behind her, all of them in a similar state of disarray, Jeremy clutching his arm against his chest and Doc’s hat notably missing, “and she brought company,” Wynonna said, dragging her eyes up and down Dolls,

Dolls clutched tightly onto his gun, optimistic despite the fact they were outnumbered, “Drop them,” Wynonna spat as Doc and Rosita moved forward, grabbing one of them each,

“Demons,” Dolls hissed as Doc grabbed his arms behind his back, keeping one arm around his throat,

“Oh god it’s Haught 2.0” Wynonna rolled her eyes, lowering her gun, “except this one is actually hot,” she smirked, “no offence red,”

“None taken,” Nicole hissed, Rosita’s arm also strong at her throat,

“Waverly!” Wynonna shouted through the door, “Waverly!”

_No response._

“I swear to god if you’ve hurt her Haught I will slice you up in so many ways you will lose count,” Wynonna spat, her fangs growing now, fully exposed in the harsh luminescent light.

“I did nothing,” Nicole struggled against Rosita.

Was that even true though? She’d kissed Waverly and held her, and then turned around and left. _But Waverly was evil? No? She’d led her into a trap, right?_

She was tired. Maybe if she closed her eyes hard enough this would all go away. Maybe is she closed her eyes hard enough she would wake up back at her desk five years ago, a stack of paperwork calling her name, a crappy tv show recorded for when she got home, and a line of bad tinder dates lined up.

“Waverly!” Wynonna said again as they entered through the doors, Doc still holding Dolls tight, Rosita’s arm still around Nicole’s neck, Jeremy still clutching his arm against his chest. Wynonna was covered in blood and mud and growling with rage, her gun still clutched in her hand. She had a silent sort of power, it vibrated through the room, Nicole could tell even Dolls could feel it, he’d stopped struggling as much.

They must have looked a sight, but Waverly wasn’t looking anyway because Waverly was crying. She was crying in that quiet sort of way, sniffling, her head turned away, it that way when you don’t want anyone to know. It was a private cry. It was a genuine cry. The kind of cry you immediately felt embarrassed to have witnessed. Nicole had to look away. _Part of an act?_

Wynonna rushed to her side, “Are you okay? What did they do to you?”

“Nothing,” she wiped the tears away but was unable to stop the way her voice hitched, tears still lodged in her throat.

It didn’t stop Wynonna from staring her down, the rage of a thousand fires lit in her eyes. Mess with one sister, you get the wrath of both. Nicole should have known that already, a bond strong enough to wrap around the earth, twice.

~

Doc and Rosita made short work of tying Dolls and Nicole to chairs, a tray full of vials of injections spread across the table. _Not this again._

“You better start explaining and you better start explaining now, Haught,” Wynonna growled.

Waverly had left with Jeremy, an arm around his shoulder. She guessed there wasn’t any need for a hospital when you had a live-in angel with healing powers. She tried to ignore the way her heart wilted, just a little, when she left the room. Part of her wanted to sever her tie completely, wanted nothing to do with this, wanted to run away and never return, and yet another part of her heart went with Waverly when she left the room, sowed into her breast pocket. She didn’t fall often, but when she did she fell fast, and she fell hard (she had a Vegas wedding certificate to prove that one.)

Nicole took a deep sigh,

“I’m your hostage,” she said, quietly, “you expected me not to try and escape?”

But Wynonna had expected her not to try and escape. Because Wynonna had invited her to join them, had offered her a safe house, had not killed her despite her many opportunities to. Wynonna had offered her a genuine kindness, something she didn’t offer to everyone, and Nicole had stomped all over it. And now Nicole was paying the price.

Wynonna lost it, throwing the bottle of whiskey she was drinking against the wall,

“Escape? Escape Haught?” she growled, her fangs mighty close to Nicole’s face, “We welcome you here after you tried to kill my baby sister, we gave you somewhere to stay, gave you food and safety, protection,” she spat, “what you were going to come here bang my sister and then leave and what – go back to killing us?” her eyes were wide now, and Nicole could feel her spit against her face as she yelled,

“That’s not what-“

“I don’t want to hear it!” Wynonna yelled,

“That’s not what happened,” she said, turning to Dolls, a slightly manic tone to her voice,

“What do you mean you housed her?” Dolls spat, “She’s supposed to be grateful you kidnapped her and kept her in this demon den,”

“Demon den,” she rolled her eyes, practically frothing at the mouth, “you’re all the fucking same,”

And Nicole could see it then, could see a girl, her heart scarred, made heavy by endless tragedy. A girl who was only trying her best to protect her sister, who’d only ever been trying her best to protect her sister. That was the whole reason she was in this damn mess, she’d ruined her own life to save Waverly’s over and over again, and she was s _till_ paying the price. The words were _still_ hurting her. Nicole swore she could see Wynonna crumple in on herself, just a little.

“Do we have to do the whole story all over again?” Wynonna said quietly, leaning back against the wall, “the whole, not all demons are bad, we’re just trying to fucking live spiel all over again?” she didn’t seem angry anymore, just tired, “and you wonder why there’s so much animosity between demons and humans,”

Nicole could see Dolls, the edge of anger still flickering across his face, but something else now too, confusion splattered across his face. She’d been there.

“You know what I don’t even care enough for this,” Wynonna said, laughing, “I have a little sister to look after, a good friend with a broken arm, and a damn shower calling my name, those are _real_ problems,” she turned to Doc, “you can just put them both back in Haught’s room,”

And with that she just left, her stride a little weaker than before.

~

Nicole felt bad. Maybe bad didn’t cover it. She kept seeing Wynonna’s face, the way she crumpled, kept seeing her tiny eyes in that grayscale print newspaper, the pain etched on her face over and over again.

She was caught in a limbo. Part of her wanted to love wholeheartedly, wanted to trust Wynonna and Waverly a hundred percent, wanted to throw herself into this new life, and another part of her believed this was a trick, the distrust of demons was engraved deep in her bones and it was proving difficult to wipe out. And then there was the thing Nicole really didn’t want to face; if there really were ‘good’ demons, and she’d really been contracted to kill them, then she was a _murderer_ , she’d _killed_ people, edging closer towards hell from limbo. A part of her would relish the flames, it seemed a damn sight easier than this current situation, of being broken apart and put together differently, of being tugged back and forth until she was stretched beyond all recognition.

Her heart was heavy, her mind was confused, she wanted to cease to exist to just become a small wisp on a breeze, but Dolls was stood in the corner, looking shell-shocked, and she guessed that was her responsibility.

“You okay, buddy,” she said, as he lowered himself down into the armchair opposite, exactly where Waverly had sat only one night ago, how had everything got to complicated so quickly? She didn’t even want to think about Waverly.

“What just happened?”

“They call themselves a rebel group, against the kingpin demon Bobo del Rey,” recognition sparked across Dolls’ face, and it unsettled her, a jagged puzzle piece, not quite _fitting_ right, “he’s the real evil demon, they’re just trying to get by, they want him dead as much as you or me,”

Dolls was silent, as if he were trying to take it in,

“Or so they say,” Dolls whispered, but Nicole could tell his heart wasn’t in it, all the rage and steadfast belief from an hour ago had melted and he too had been shoved into limbo, where the crazy people live, where it eats at your brain.

“I think I’m starting to trust them,” Nicole said, shaking her head, “Is that crazy?”

Dolls didn’t reply, still staring at that one mark on the wall,

“Of course, they don’t trust me anymore,” she put her head in her hands, “I don’t know what’s happening anymore,”

“They’re demons,” Dolls said quietly,

“That’s what I thought as well,”

“Demons are _always_ bad,” he said, seemingly as much to himself as to Nicole.

“Not always it would seem,”

Dolls shook his head, seemingly unable to process this information,

“Dolls,” she said quietly, “I think they were sending me _good_ demons to kill, demons like Waverly,”

He didn’t reply.

“I think that makes me a killer,”

He snapped out of his daze, staring Nicole straight in the face,

“You’re not a killer, Haught, these things aren’t human,”

“Do you have to human to be worthy of life?” she said, softly, witnessing rage start in Dolls’ eyes again, him picking up a book from the bookshelf, and hurling it against the wall, it falling to the floor with a thud. _Beauty and the beast._ Ironic.

Nicole knew this feeling, knew what it was like to have your world flipped upside down, to be twisted and turned and wrung out until there was almost nothing left. She knew it might last a while, so she simply turned over, pulling the covers over her head and staring at the wall, leaving Dolls to his stupor.

~

She didn’t plan on sleeping, but as her head hit the pillow (which had now been provided –presumably by Waverly, which _definitely_ didn’t make her feel guilty at all), her eyes had sowed themselves shut and she’d fallen deep, deep down into a still and dreamless sleep, nothing but the blackness. And when she woke up, Dolls was still in the same position, curled up in the chair, eyes wide awake, boring into the wall.

She almost shut her eyes again, clinging to sleep for just a little longer, wanted to ignore Dolls, ignore her problems for just a little longer. But there was something rattling around her head, something that just wasn’t _quite right._

“Dolls,” she said softly, his head snapping, staring at her with those eyes, bright brown and wide. “How did you know who Bobo Del Rey was?” she said, not missing the flash of fear that passed over his face,

“Because he works for black badge, that’s why,” came a voice from the door. Wynonna. Her eyes were still narrowed in anger, her trademark whiskey bottle in hand, most of the mud and blood had been washed off but Nicole could see some she’d missed, dried blood forming a line right by her ear.

That was the second time she’d heard those words uttered from an Earp’s mouth, and the second time she’d seen the way the word etched fear into their faces, whether they tried to conceal it or not.

~

“We gotta stop letting the enemy in here,” Wynonna laughed, lifting the bottle up to her lips and chugging some more whiskey.

They’d moved rooms, and Dolls hadn’t even protested, just followed Wynonna into a room Nicole swore she’d never seen before (just how big was this place?). Nicole wondered if that’s how she’d looked when she first got here, like a lost, kicked puppy on its way to the vet. Then again, she’d been drugged, so Dolls had got off easy really.

“What is black badge anyway?” Nicole said, her hands tied behind her chair again, the rope rubbing against her pre-existing rope burn.

Wynonna’s eyes sparkled, as she lowered the bottle down from her lips, leaning closer towards Nicole,

“Oh that _is_ interesting,”

“What?” Nicole said, trying to catch Dolls’ eyes but he was firmly avoiding her gaze,

“You didn’t even tell her huh, I got the impression y’all we’re close,” Wynonna grinned in a way that unsettled Nicole, made her squirm under the ropes.

_We are close. We’re family._ She wanted to say, but she saw the way Wynonna was looking at Dolls, like she was about to expose him, and the way Dolls was avoiding looking at her, and she got the impression that Dolls was about to betray her. A sinking stone.

“Will somebody just tell me what’s going on?” Nicole said, adding a huff in order to seem as if she didn’t care, in order to seem as if her heart _wasn’t_ beating a million miles a minute.

“Black badge is the biggest demon killing organisation,” Wynonna said, relishing the way Nicole’s eyes widened,

_Dolls worked with demons?_

He worked with demons and he never told her? He never offered to help?

But of course, he always seemed to know more about Nicole’s job that she gave him, always seemed to know additional information that she hadn’t told him. _We just have a connection,_ he’d told her, _I always know what you’re thinking, Red._ Bullshit.

_He must have feigned ignorance._ He must have lied to her. The thought alone made her want to throw up, did everyone have a second skin?

She avoided his gaze. Was she destined to just be ripped apart over and over by everyone she loved?

“Not to mention,” Wynonna said, leaning closer on her knees, close enough that Nicole could feel her breath on her cheek, “they’re as corrupt as they come, been under Bobo’s thumb for god knows how long,”

“That’s not true!” Dolls spat, struggling against the ropes now, the chair squeaking against the stone floor.

Wynonna cackled, “Of course it is, my dude, do you think it would have lasted so long if it wasn’t corrupt,” she grinned a wicked grin, its power radiating through the room and Nicole was scared it would burn her if she looked at it too long,  “would have been eliminated years ago, only shady companies can last the long haul, and black badge has been doing shady deals for generations, just ask my father,”

_What about her father?_

“You’re wrong,” Dolls growled again, but Wynonna just ignored him,

“Not telling Haught here though, that’s low, even for a black badge dude, you let her get screwed over by your own organisation, didn’t even let her know what for,” Wynonna’s grin was wider than Nicole had ever seen, like a kid in a candy store,

“I never worked for black badge,”

Wynonna rolled her eyes, “Oh honey, why are you so naïve, I thought we’d been over this,”

“Did you know this?” Nicole said, a quiet anger rattling through her words.

Dolls ignored her, avoiding her gaze.

“I said, did you know this?” she said again, louder now.

“Yes,” Dolls said softly, and Nicole felt as if the floor had been pulled out from under her.

~

Wynonna took Dolls somewhere else. Nicole didn’t know what she would have done if he’d stayed. She’d thrown everything away for Dolls without question, because Dolls was her friend, because she trusted Dolls with her life. She’d thrown Wynonna under the bus for Dolls, she’d thrown Waverly under the bus for Dolls. She was spinning round and round with no sign of stopping. She was alone, again. And she still really missed the big, open sky, she even missed the grey smog of New York City, even missed the yelling through her cracked window, she missed anything that wasn’t a cycle of endless confusion, of endless betrayal. She punched the wall of her room again, feeling the familiar trickle of blood make its way through the cracks of her palms like a river. This was becoming habit forming.

~

When Nicole woke up in the middle of the night her door was open. It wasn’t cracked open, it was fully open, the light in the hallway flickering. She rubbed her eyes, _what did this mean_? She wandered down the hallway, her feet curling against the freezing, stone floor, her arms wrapped around her stomach, her whole body shivering.

She could hear voices down the hall and she followed them, until she came to a door, metal with a giant handle on it. And when she turned it, she found herself in a room, five eyes staring at her.

“You made it,” Wynonna rolled her eyes, “I’ll have you know this wasn’t my idea,”

Nicole felt as if she were in a fever dream as her eyes scanned everyone in the room,

“What wasn’t your idea,” she said, her voice cracking,

“Welcome to the team, Haught,” Doc said, cocking his hat in her direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey I know it's late, and also am here to announce I'm taking an official break over christmas, I'm going back to england for christmas and I haven't been back in 3 months / seen most people in 3 months so my holiday break is PACKED, I shall hopefully be back in about 3/4 weeks ready to continue this story! Thanks for bearing with my inconsistencies, I really do want to get back to regular uploading in January/February!  
> Let me know what you thought, this is becoming harder to write, I have all these ideas that are difficult to execute and it's proving hard.   
> Hope you have a great christmas / holidays / break, thanks for reading!  
> As always my tumblr is waverlysangels and my twitter is waverlysangel.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while .... but Christmas was so busy and then I got ill, but here I am. This story should hopefully only have 3 more chapters, and I really hope I can get them out every sunday!

“Am I still dreaming?” Nicole said, rubbing her eyes. She felt as if she only needed to blink three times to wash this all away, to wake up back in her room (prison cell) unscathed, a million emotions rattling around in her brain. But, if Nicole had learnt anything since being kidnapped it was that dreams don’t always come true, it was that crazy, mixed-up things could happen. And if this wasn’t a crazy, mixed-up thing she didn’t know what was.

“Unfortunately not, darling,” Doc said, that famous southern lilt wrapping around his voice like a silken scarf, almost swoon-able, if Nicole had been someone else. Doc had been a famous womanizer after all. 

Nicole scanned the room, four sets of eyes looking up at her expectantly, one pair of eyes deliberately avoiding her, trained on the carpet. _Waverly._ Nicole could barely blame her. By god, she’d been an ass. She knew she had commitment issues, many an ex-girlfriend had let her know that, but this was something else, this hot-and-cold, these mind games. In her defence, she was still trying to wrap her head around the whole Waverly-being-another-species thing.

“Why am I here,” she said slowly, watching as Wynonna moved to pour herself another glass of whiskey.

“At the end of the day we need you,” Rosita said as Wynonna audibly gagged, “the resistance is a little thin on numbers if you hadn’t noticed,”

“We need an insider,” Wynonna said, knocking back another glass of whiskey,

“Then why not ask Dolls,” Nicole said, arching her eyebrows, “you already know from yesterday that my knowledge is limited,”

“Dolls is a little occupied right now,” Wynonna said, grinning and shaking her head,

“What did you do?” Nicole asked warily,

“Nothing oh demon hater,” Wynonna rolled her eyes, “he’s a little concerned with his own rage right now, has some fire in his belly that he maybe let out,” she raised her eyebrow, her eyes scanning Nicole’s blank face,

“Now what is that supposed to mean,” Nicole said, exasperated, leaning against the wall, seemingly unfazed that everyone else was dressed for business, and she was dressed in (unicorn themed) pyjamas that had mysteriously shown up in her room,

“Interesting,” Wynonna drawled,

“Oh, cut the act,” Nicole said,

“Awfully brazen today are we,” she grinned, “it’s not my fault your friend tells you nothing,”

“What,” Nicole said again but Doc only coughed,

“We should probably get back to business,” and Nicole wanted to protest, to ask Wynonna what she meant, the words rattling around her brain, but her curiosity stretched around the table, leading her to a seat, her arms still crossed,

“Fine,” she sighed, “hit me,”

~

“That’s the plan?” Nicole arched her eyebrows, “Seems mighty risky if you ask me,”

“It’s all we’ve got,” Wynonna said firmly, “you know I wouldn’t put Waverly in any danger if it wasn’t the only chance we have,” she gulped, “they nearly caught us the other day, they know you’ve gone missing, they know about action ken in there, it has to be now.”

This was maybe the most vulnerable she’d ever seen Wynonna. She spoke through gritted teeth, her fingers clutching onto the edge of the table. Waverly still wouldn’t look directly at her, as if just one look might blind her.

Nicole took a breath, “When do we start,” she said, not missing the wicked glint in Doc’s eye.

~

It turns out the answer was ‘first thing in the morning’, which is when most plans seemed to start, which left Nicole a whole night of tossing and turning in her room, the slight light of the moon taunting her, the bed somehow more uncomfortable than before, her skin itching to get out there and _move._ She could scarcely believe she was going to get to see the world again. Sure, it was on a risky mission with several vampires (and prior sworn enemies) and a girl who’s heart she’d broken to take down a demon kingpin who she hadn’t even known existed a few weeks ago, a long stone throws away from a beach trip, but it was a trip all the same; it was a chance to see more than four walls and people who she just kept letting down.

And it was a chance to face the truth, once and for all.

Maybe that’s what was eating at her, itching at the inside of her skin. She was going to see the man – the demon – that she’d worked for, that she’d killed for, she was going to witness his evil, and thus her evil, she was going to have to accept it for what it was. That didn’t even scratch the surface of Dolls – his many mysteries, a man she’d thought she’d known so well now shrouded in doubt, a cloud-like cloth covering him, just out of reach.

She scrunched her eyes closed tight and wished for sleep.

~

Nicole was greeted with weapons for breakfast (and a bowl of porridge lovingly prepared by Jeremy – but mostly weapons).

“Today is your basic stakeout,” Wynonna said, standing at the head of the table and looking not unlike a war hero in her own right, or the self-elected leader in a zombie apocalypse,

“We’re looking for the basics – cameras, lookouts, guards, and most of all – someone easily manipulated, an in if you will,” she said, pausing to look up.

Dolls was walking into the room, accompanied by Doc, looking a little more worn down than the last time Nicole had seen him, but not bruised or bloodied in any kind of way. Nicole avoided looking at him. A chain reaction.

“He’s coming with us?” Jeremy piped up, his backpack was packed with more electricals than weapons, he was going to attempt to hack into the cameras, with Rosita on lookout,

“He’s got insider information,” Wynonna said curtly, “besides some of his _talents_ could be useful,” she smirked, and Nicole only shook her head, _there was definitely something nobody was telling her,_ but she had to shake it off, now was not the time to dwell on betrayal. Especially because Wynonna was continuing her speech and Nicole could have sworn she was suggesting her and _Waverly_ team up – and she can’t have heard right,

“What?” Nicole said a little harsher than she intended,

“You and baby girl are going to stake out from the roof –“ she looked sternly at Nicole as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe she just had no time for drama, maybe she really was fully oblivious to the situation in front of her, or maybe, just maybe, a part of her wanted them to get together, a part of her liked Nicole, deep, deep, inside.

Nicole was never going to be able to read Wynonna.

She continued pairing them up, _Jeremy with Rosita, Dolls and Doc with her (aka the best threesome she’s ever had – even dolls blushed a little at that one),_ but Nicole was no longer listening, because Waverly was looking up at her, her cheeks flushed bright red, a slight glint of anger in her eyes and Nicole could feel everything all at once, _it was sure as hell going to be a day._

~

It was colder than Nicole had been expecting, and she was reminded she didn’t even know what month it was. The way the snow kissed the tops of buildings all around her, the sun hidden firmly behind a thick cloud, the way the metal rungs stung her hands, the cold bright, Nicole would have guessed they were in the throws of winter, but she could be wrong, stranger things had happened. This happened to be one of those stranger things, Waverly lying beside her on her stomach, clutching at a pair of binoculars, a thin line of air separating them.

Nothing much had happened all day. They were in charge of staking out the main entrance, and aside from several guys who could only be described as ‘shady’, not much had happened. People came in, people came out and the wind bit at Nicole’s cheeks. Waverly shivered beside her, moving to rub her hands together, blowing on them, her breath forming a small cloud in the air. Nicole moved to shrug her jacket off, offering it up to Waverly with a guilty-looking smile.

Waverly took it from her. A beat of silence.

“So, are we going to talk about it or what?” she said, still not quite making eye contact with Nicole, “Seems there’s not much else to do, who’d have thought avenging your sister’s death and the destruction of your family home could be so boring,” she looked up at Nicole and Nicole didn’t know if she was supposed to laugh. Truth be told she felt like crying.

“I’m sorry,” Nicole said, “I know that doesn’t really cover it, but I promise I am,”

“Why’d you do it?” Waverly said softly,

Nicole gulped, “It’s been confusing to say the least,” she laughed half-heartedly, “to find out that monsters aren’t really monsters, that I’m the monster- “

“You’re not a monster,” Waverly interjected, their eyes meeting, a light blush lighting up Nicole’s cheeks,

“I did some terrible things,”

“You didn’t know they were terrible at the time,”

“I’ve done some terrible things – to you,” Nicole added softly,

“Oh,” Waverly said, the silence stretching like an elastic band, “well there is that,”

“I was just so angry at myself for falling for it all – and I took it all out on Wynonna and you, and neither of you deserved that,”

Waverly didn’t say anything,

“And well learning about your powers threw me for a loop – I kept feeling like,” Nicole gulped, “like you put a spell on me, like all of this was the result of your magic,” the words felt limp in her mouth, felt like an excuse, and she could see Waverly looking at her, really looking at her – and she burst out laughing, trying to stifle the sound with her gloved hands, trying to stop them from being seen,

“You’re an absolute idiot do you know that?” she said, shaking her head, “I should be more mad, but you’re just-“she laughed again, “you’re such an idiot,”

“I’m sure you’re right but why,” Nicole said, smiling just a little, Waverly’s laughter was infectious,

“That’s not even one of my powers,” Waverly said, “and even if it was, I would _never_ do that. What sort of power is that anyway? The power to make you like me? I’ve met many emotionally cut off people, but that might take the cake,” she was laughing again, and Nicole couldn’t help but join in – something about the absurdity of it all was hilarious,

“So I just like you?”

“You just like me,”

“No magic involved,”

“No magic involved,”

Nicole took a breath as Waverly moved her head a little closer to Nicole’s, close enough so Nicole could hear her when she whispered, “I just might like you too,” she paused, “even if you _are_ an idiot,”

Nicole felt the tension melt from her body, joining the frost that stretched across the concrete roof. It was as if the fog had lifted, and suddenly Nicole could see the outlines of the trees, stretching out towards the sky. Nicole liked Waverly, Waverly liked her back, what could be simpler than that?

Nicole moved closer, moving closer to Waverly –

“Wait,” Waverly said, _and what now? They’re relationship really couldn’t take any more drama,_ “5 o’clock, who’s that?”

“What?” Nicole said, thoroughly lost,

“Here,” Waverly said, shoving the binoculars towards her, “who’s that, 5 o’clock he doesn’t look like the rest,”

“I’ve never seen him before,” Nicole said, peering through the binoculars. It was a skinny looking man, tall with blonde hair, his white shirt perfectly ironed, his walkie-talkie attached to his hip, he was tapping his leg, his eyes darting around, he reeked of innocence, of vulnerability.

“I don’t recognise him from any of the boards, he must be new,” Waverly said, taking the binoculars back,

“Maybe we have our in,” Nicole said softly, taking a breath. This meant they had to move on to the next stage of their plan. This meant things were getting serious.

~

“What do you think?” Nicole whispered to Wynonna, all of them crouched just outside of the building,

“I think it has to be him,” she took a breath, “I think it has to be now,”

Nicole made eye contact with Dolls. He gave her a nod, curt and professional. She moved closer to Waverly, squeezing her hand, a gesture which didn’t pass Wynonna by. But she didn’t say anything, just simply raised her eyebrows.

“Are you ready?” Nicole said softly to Waverly and she took her hand, squeezing it tightly,

“I guess as ready as I’ll ever be,”

“Jeremy can only keep the cameras down for so long, it has to be now,” Wynonna said.

Waverly moved to place her hands behind her back, Wynonna placing the handcuffs around them. Nicole knew Waverly could get out of them in a heartbeat if she wanted to, but still she didn’t like to see her, captured, locked down. She placed one hand firmly on Waverly’s shoulder.

“Let’s go,” she said.

~

The three of them walked towards the lookout, Nicole with one hand on Waverly’s shoulder, Dolls’ hand on the other. The man immediately clocked them, moving towards them nervously. _There was no way this guy wasn’t letting them in._

“We have a hostage,” Dolls said, gesturing towards Waverly, moving closer towards the guy. She could tell the man was a little taken aback by Dolls. Nicole had spent so long thinking of Dolls as a brother that she forgot that he was objectively very good looking, he was tall and impressive, and jacked as hell, and those brown eyes were soft and inviting. She could see the poor guy melting just a little.

The guy looked back and forth from Dolls to Waverly, and she could tell exactly what he was thinking, _she sure as hell don’t look like a demon._ Nicole knew that feeling, hell Nicole had _had_ that feeling not that long ago. That was the privilege of being pretty – people underestimate you. And this guy was about to learn how much he’d underestimated Waverly.

She broke free from the handcuffs, blue fire sparking around her wrists as they melted, forming a pool of metal onto the tarmac. Nicole saw the guy take a step back, but Waverly wasn’t done yet, she jutted a hand out, sending Nicole flying across the tarmac, thudding into the wall with just enough vigour that Nicole knew she’d feel it in the morning. Dolls got a hold of her, pulling her hands back behind her back and the guy looked so taken aback that he basically rushed them inside, rushing over to Nicole and helping her up. Nicole guessed that was him told. Waverly winked at her grinning. Nicole knew she’d done it purely for the mission, but she also knew a part of Waverly had enjoyed it, she’d been an asshole after all, Waverly had probably been daydreaming about throwing her across various rooms.

They snuck into the hallway, Dolls relaxing his hold on Waverly. Waverly had studied maps of the place, but Dolls knew it like the back of his hand.

“Here,” he whispered, “we need to go this way if we want to let the others in,” he gestured towards one of the vaguely dark corridors peeling to the left. This place was like a maze. They probably didn’t have long until someone worked out something was going on. She started after dolls, moving to clutch Waverly’s hand.

A voice cut through the air behind her, chilling through her bones like a cold winter wind and when she turned on her heel the sight made her sick. Bobo. Bobo in all his glory, a fur coat draping over his shoulders, blood and mud stained, a grin lighting up his face, his teeth fanged, a hint of blood left on his lips.

“Well if it isn’t the prodigal son and daughter – you’ve returned” Bobo said slyly, running a bracelet through his fingers. His eyes landed on Waverly and his grin grew wider, he laughed, deep and haunting, “and you’ve brought me a present.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you thought, my passion/inspiration for this story is waning a little and I feel like you can tell in the writing but then maybe not idk. Like I say hopefully only two more chapters after this!  
> Hope you have a nice day.  
> My tumblr is waverlysangels and my twitter is waverlysangel if u ever want to chat :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so I didn't update this last week but i did write a oneshot as a submission for the EFA fic challenge, so feel free to go read that! I know this fic already has an archive warning for graphic violence but I feel like I should extra warn you that this one is pretty violent. The last chapter I posted I wasn't really feeling it but I've got back into it and I feel like this one is a lot better! Enjoy!

When Nicole woke up she was on the floor. Her head was throbbing, she couldn’t move her right arm, her vision was blurry and striped, and she was freezing cold. She tried to curl in on herself, trying to reach out for her body as if it might heal her, or at least make her warm. As if her basic instinct was to turn in on herself, make herself smaller and smaller until she just disappeared.

Maybe Waverly could heal her.

_Waverly_.

At just the thought of her she panicked, flailing aimlessly, trying to sit up, still feeling around in her blindness and pain. _Was Waverly okay?_ What had happened? Her head throbbed too much to tell her.

 As her vision started coming back, she could see that she was in some sort of cage, and not a metaphorical cage, not the cage of her heart and mind, but rather the other kind of cage, a rather more literal one. The cage was hung, suspended above the floor below. Thick metal bars surrounded her, and there didn’t seem to be a door, a lock she could pick, or at least throw herself at until it opened. She shivered again. She guessed a large, drafty warehouse was not the place to be in the middle of winter in New York, especially not when you had given away your sweater to an angel who was maybe your sort-of girlfriend. Her head felt like someone was stabbing it with a hundred small fire pokers, and the slightest movement was rocking the floor below her. She still couldn’t see Waverly, in fact she couldn’t see much, the only light was coming from a small window near the ceiling, and it was dimming. She guessed that meant they were underground, that the sun was setting, approaching dusk. Her ex-police brain was going wild, creating and then ruling out exit strategies, trying not to think of the worse. Nicole had worked on plenty of kidnapping cases. And not all of them ended well. That didn’t bode thinking about.

“Ah I see red’s awake,” snarled someone from below, flicking on the lights ceremoniously, the light flooding the warehouse. _Bobo._ There he stood in all his snarling glory, a ridiculously oversized fur coat hanging on his shoulders, complete with a fox skin scarf (with the head still attached). Her grinned up at her, revealing his rotting teeth. A flare for the dramatic. This was just another stage for him.

“Where am I?” she said, more to say something than anything else, she knew he wouldn’t tell her.

“Ah Red, how you hurt me,” he tilted his head, pouting, “I thought your policing skills were a little better than that,” he moved so he was directly under her cage, “and I know your demon killing skills were, killed many an enemy for me,” he licked his lips, “shame you had to switch sides,”

Nicole spat in his direction, feeling the strain on her ribs. Talking with Bobo was a waste of breath, she needed to be _thinking._ She needed to be thinking of escape strategies and not Bobo and the part she played in his schemes. Needed to be thinking about Waverly and how get her out, not the blood she spilled in Bobo’s name.

“Ah there’s no need for that,” he grinned, continuing to talk, “Needed to find myself a gullible little girl, a dirty cop and there you were, perfectly packaged, angry and hateful, I figured you a sort of apprentice,” he snarled, running a ring in between his fingers, “my own little killer,” he paused, “of course I already had black badge under my thumb, controlled them like puppets, most of the employees were so mindless, so trained, they barely even noticed the shift,” he threw his head back in laughter, “especially your friend there,” he gestured to another cage which Nicole hadn’t yet noticed, “black badge’s little lapdog that one,” he grinned, “although maybe dog isn’t the right animal,”

A surge of rage ran through Nicole as she stared at the cage opposite, Dolls lying strewn across the floor, like a crumpled piece of paper. _He looked dead._ The very idea rattled her, knocking the breath from her, her hands shaking as she pressed her face against the bars desperately trying to see if he was breathing.

_He couldn’t be dead. How could he be lying there?_

“Dolls!” she screamed, her voice coming out choked and hoarse, her ribs screaming in pain. Bobo looked up at her, the same sadistic little smile written all across his face, rocking back and forth on his heels. _He was enjoying this._ He was enjoying seeing her scream and cry, seeing Dolls lie motionless, he thrived off the misery and terror of others. And Nicole _was_ terrified. She couldn’t look away from Dolls. Dolls who had lied to her, Dolls who had kept things from her that had a direct influence on her own life. Dolls who was a best friend, a brother. Dolls who was always so alive, whose smile dazzled and lit up any room, larger than life. Dolls who was now lying motionless in a cage across the warehouse from her. And there was nothing she could do but stare at him, will him to wake up.

Bobo had settled down in a wooden throne in between the two cages, watching the pair of them, smile lighting up his face like it was a new episode of his favourite show. All that was missing was popcorn.

Nicole heard a rattle from below and in came another figure. Much smaller. A child, a small flower crown placed upon her head, the flowers weaving into the waves of her hair as it tumbled down her back, her feet bare, a white lace dress dragging along the dusty floor.

She looked oddly familiar, as if Nicole had met her before, and as Nicole’s eyes remained trained on her, she started to feel sick, her stomach dropping. She looked familiar because she looked like that same grainy, black and white photo of the Earp sister’s standing in front of their wrecked house, their eyes piercing, their faces forlorn, almost desperate; a picture she was decidedly missing from. She looked familiar because she was the third sister, the dead sister; she was Willa.

Nicole could throw up.

Waverly thought Wynonna had killed her. Waverly had told her Wynonna had killed her. And yet here she was, delicate as a fae, she walked with all of the poise of an adult, but her face betrayed her, she couldn’t have been more than twelve years old. She carried a tray of wine, handing a glass to Bobo before taking one herself, perching on the arm of the throne, the glass clutched firmly in her hand. Looking closer, Nicole could see it didn’t move like wine, it was more viscous. She almost gagged, they were drinking _blood_ out of crystalline wine glasses, it was sticking round the rim as she twirled it in her hand. She didn’t want to think about where it came from. She highly doubted Bobo had ethical sources.

“What have we got here?” Willa said, swilling the blood around her glass and leaning on Bobo’s shoulder, “People my rat of a sister dragged in?” she laughed, and Nicole could see her fangs, sharp and dripping with blood. There was no denying this was Waverly’s older sister turned child vampire. She wondered what it felt like to be 30 trapped in the body of a forever 12-year-old, she wondered if Willa forever felt caged, rattling at her own prison doors. Nicole was starting to know what that felt like.  

Most of her thoughts were shrouded in anger however, the way she snarled hit her right in the core, and it was taking hold, bubbling out and spilling over.

“Where’s Waverly?” she shouted, clutching at her ribs again,

“Oh, it speaks,” Willa drawled, shooting her a calloused look, “that’s always fun,”

“I said where is she, what have you done with her?”

“Fiery this one,” she grinned, turning to Bobo,

“She used to work for us, until she fell for Waverly,” Bobo explained, and Willa’s eyes lit up,

“Interesting,” she drawled, making prolonged eye contact with Nicole in a way that made her visibly uncomfortable, forcing her to look the other way. There was something unnatural, something abject, in the way she held herself, the way she talked, the way she leaned on Bobo’s shoulder. All the character of an older woman shoved into a tiny body, still not quite pubescent and yet oozing in confidence. Out of place.

“Where is she?” she repeated again, using the bars of her cage to pull herself up to a standing position, “Tell me if she’s okay,”

Nicole was sure she probably should have been playing her cards close to her chest, presenting Bobo with some kind of façade, some kind of poker face, years of police training had taught her that. But she had always been far too honest when it came to matters of the heart and right now she was willing to serve it up, still beating, in exchange for Waverly’s safety.

“She wants to see Waverly,” Bobo grinned, raising his eyebrows in Willa’s direction,

“Ugh I don’t know why she’s so obsessed with that sister of mine, always was the least interesting,” Willa drawled, taking another sip of her blood, “now Wynonna, at least she’s got a bit of spunk, even if she did try to kill me, but _dear darling Waverly,”_ she said the name as if it were poison in her mouth, “she was always such a stickler for the rules, always a smile, always yes please and no thank you, how very dull,” she drew this last word out, letting it roll round her mouth as she stared at Nicole.

“Well why don’t we welcome her anyway, we don’t discriminate here,” Bobo\ said with a booming laugh, as he gestured to a security guard standing just by the door, who threw the doors open.

And in walked Waverly.

Her hands and feet were chained together, her eyes rimmed red, her once long hair shaved from her head, what was left stuck in patches. This wasn’t the most shocking thing. That honour had to go to the two big white wings sticking out from her back. She had neglected to mention that she was an angel complete with _wings._ They were not pure white, they appeared to be battered, greying at the edges as if they were peeling, and Nicole could see the left one was torn, just a little. Nicole felt like crying. It was like she was seeing Waverly’s spirit, split open, the cracked parts bleeding into the floor before her. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a broken spirit, it was all at once heavenly and a tragedy, something so beautiful lying broken in front of her very eyes. Her light which used to light out the room was dimmed, a flickering candle easily missed.

“Waverly!” she shouted, pressing her face against the bars,

Waverly turned to look at her, not even managing a smile before turning back, her head bowed.

“I hear angel’s blood is so intoxicating, it’s enough to turn a weaker man mad,” Bobo said, slowly, deliberately, looking Nicole right in the eyes.

“No!” Nicole shouted, her voice echoing, bouncing off the walls, Waverly didn’t even flinch. _What did they do to her?_

“Willa will you be a dear and fetch the knife, you know the one,”

“My daddy’s knife?” Willa said, smiling and Nicole thought if it grew any bigger it might just fall right off her smug face, “Well of course,” she said, half-curtseying as she backed out of the room.

Nicole felt powerless. Nicole was powerless. She was trapped in this godforsaken cage and all she could do was watch, her best friend was lying on the floor, not moving, her girlfriend was bound, about to have her throat slit by a sadistic monster. And here she was, bound only by the power of steel. It was too much.

It was a _performance._

And she was counting on Bobo wanting her to watch.

And so, with every ounce of strength she had left in her beaten body, she turned around, sitting cross-legged at the opposite side of her cage, facing the back wall.

“Given up huh, red?” Bobo taunted from below. But Nicole couldn’t see him. And she wasn’t listening. Or at least she was pretending not to.

“I’m talking to you, Red, I have your little girlfriend here, I’m going to drink from her fountain,”

Nicole shuddered internally, digging her fingernails into the palm of her hand, but she still didn’t move, keeping her eyes trained on the back wall. Just keep focusing on that one spot, _let all else fall away._ Maybe that therapy Nedley had made her attend had been good for something after all.

_Take a deep breath and imagine yourself on a journey._

She heard Willa return, her light footsteps echoing a little in the drafty space.

“Your knife,” Nicole heard her say, “Are we ready to feast?”

She must have noticed Nicole was missing from the front of her cage.

“She’s wandered off has she?” Willa laughed, loud, mockingly, the ghastly tune filling up the space, “She can’t love you that much, little sis, can she? But then what else can you expect? _Plain little Waverly_ , daddy couldn’t love you, I don’t see why anyone else would.” She said this slowly, relishing every word.

That one dug deep, Nicole desperately wanted to throw herself back to the front of the cage wanted to rattle the bars and scream for Waverly, scream for all the world to hear. But that wouldn’t do Waverly any favours. She just had to hope her plan was working.

“Well we’ll just have to do it without her,” Bobo said, and the temptation to turn around was immense, to try anything else to stop him. But there was nothing else she could do.

_He’s a showman,_ she thought, _he doesn’t want the angel blood he wants to torture me, he wants to torture us, he’ll crack._

_He has to._

A last stand saloon.

And sure enough an almighty boom rocked round the four walls. Bobo stamped his foot like a toddler being denied a second ice-cream, relishing in the way it rattled the two cages above him, swinging lightly.

“Guard!” he yelled, “Get that one down, hold her head, force her to watch,”

_Her plan was working._

“And whilst you’re at it, bring the other one too, he’s next,”

Nicole’s blood ran cold. The pair of them being dangled before her like a choice and she prayed to god or anyone who was listening that she’d be able to save both of them, that she wouldn’t have to watch one of them burn before her eyes.

~

Nicole’s neck was being held by a guard, his big, beefy arm pressing firmly against her throat, muffling any scream, turning any sound to merely fog. Beside her Dolls was still passed out, being held up by another man shrouded in a similar sort of demonic energy, his arm firmly around his chest.

“Willa, shall I let you do the honours?” Bobo drawled, staring directly at Bobo now, his eyes wide as he slowly licked his lips, handing the knife to Willa.

Waverly didn’t even flinch. Just sat, huddled on the floor, her wings forming a pool around her, drooping like an unloved flower. She was dying before the knife had even touched her skin. Nicole felt tears begin to escape from her eyes. It was really over. She had fought and fought but all she had done was prolong it. She wasn’t superhuman, she was a disgraced cop, a drunken freelancer, there was nothing she could do but struggle, the arm getting tighter and tighter around her throat as she struggled to breathe.

Willa cast one glinting glance at Nicole before bringing the knife up high, moving to slash Waverly’s throat in one clean sweep, laughing the whole time. Waverly let out a small cry. And her blood was on the floor, mixed with the dirt and the dust. It all happened so fast, Nicole could barely process what was happening. One second Waverly lay dying on the floor, the next Dolls had released an all mighty roar, his eyes turning bright yellow, his irises burning, he threw a smirk at Nicole before his skin started to burn, the guard bouncing backwards, screaming in pain, his hand alight. And Dolls was alight too, a fury in his eyes unmatched by anything Nicole had ever seen as he charged at Bobo, and Nicole swore she saw real fear on Bobo’s face, etched among the sleaziness and the ever-present smirk, a genuine terror. And then Dolls was all alight and they were burning together, a bright bonfire, the sheer heat of it itching at Nicole’s eyeballs and skin, and the guard had long since let go of her neck but she couldn’t move, feet frozen in place as she watched her best friend burn into an inferno, Waverly painfully still against the floor, her white wings stretched out all around her. Heaven and hell.

And then there was an almighty crash, the big wooden door falling to the floor with a thud, and standing on the other side was Wynonna Earp, fangs out in all her glory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, let me know what you think in the comments, I know this one was very intense, but every comment means so much to me! Thanks for sticking with this, I'm like 99% sure this will be the penultimate chapter, however I'm in Italy next week so that should be coming at you in about two weeks!  
> As always if you wanna chat my twitter is waverlysangel and my tumblr is waverlysangels !  
> Have a nice day!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was supposed to be the last chapter .. and now it's not ?? so there's that (it nearly is I promise one more) - i won't be able to update next week bc I'm in Barcelona but hopefully 2 weeks from now the final chapter will be up! Again this one is intense so be warned! Hope you enjoy.

“Fuck!” Wynonna said, running to where Waverly lay motionless, shaking her desperately. And Nicole couldn’t look away as the act of tragedy played out in front of her own eyes. Wynonna was shaking Waverly’s shoulders, cradling in her lap like one might cradle a new-born, and she could imagine Wynonna cradling Waverly all these years, being there for her when no one else would be, her one guiding light. Attached at the hip, sown together through necessity, bound by love and blood and all things messy, and now Waverly lay limp in her arms. Her wings were torn and blood stained, her neck bearing a still pouring scar, and Nicole knew that she was witnessing something unholy, something sickening, something so twisted as if the devil himself had crawled out on all fours, foaming at the mouth, spewing black liquid across the floor. She knew that this image would be forever seared into her brain. Wynonna let out a howl that was inhuman, even for a vampire, a howl that rattled through the building, seeming to shatter the windows in its intensity, that snapped Nicole out of her trance as she rushed forward, skidding on her knees towards Waverly, towards the scene in front of her.

But it was too late.

And there was not only one body.

Two charred bodies laid beside her, their hair singed, their skin greying, embraced in a fiery death match that had cooled, flickering like the embers of a burnt-out fire. Bobo was dead. And Dolls laid beside him. It was too much, Nicole felt her heart split right down the middle, the two people she loved most in the world were lying on either side of her, motionless. She sobbed, slumping against Dolls’ body, making direct eye contact with Wynonna in their moment of sorrow.

But it was not over.

“Wynonna!” she screamed, not knowing how that kind of power still lay within her, she felt like scattered ashes, not a whole, “Behind you!”

And as Wynonna whipped around on her heel, there stood her sister. The one who was alive, or what could pass as alive, the one who had died before her twice already, yet stood there strong, swinging her father’s knife round in her hand, still fresh with Waverly’s blood. How come this sister got three lives and yet the only one who deserved to live lay dead? Her sister lay before her bloodied and slipping away, and here her other sister was grinning, her very soul blackened but her body standing strong.

Wynonna exploded into a vision of rage, her hackles raised, her fangs out as she growled, circling Willa like a lion circling its prey. A death match.

“You’ll pay for what you did,” she said slowly, deliberately.

“Nothing she didn’t deserve,” Willa laughed, bearing her throat, a scar running across it, red and thick and angry, from the last time Wynonna had tried to kill her, “she’s not strong like us, Wy, face it, she never was,”

“Don’t you dare call me that,”

“Oh stop being so precious, she’s weak,”

“She’s stronger than you can ever be,” she stood tall, “the best of us,” Wynonna’s voice cracked on the last word,

“Not strong like us,”

“I’m not like you,”

“You’re just like me and you know it,”

“I’m not, I can be better, she taught me that,” Wynonna spat, “I’ve killed you once, I can do it again,”

“You can’t beat me,” Willa drawled, still twirling the knife in her hands, “I suggest you join me,”

“Never,” Wynonna said, her eyes narrowing, becoming inhuman, becoming rage personified, Nicole swore she could almost see sparks coming from her.

“Face it, you failed the first time, you’re always failing, you’re one job was to keep dear darling Waverly alive,”

Willa gestured towards where Waverly’s body lay slumped on the floor, blood still pouring from her neck, a god-awful pool surrounding her. Nicole sat in it, two heads cradled in her lap, eyes still dry, flickering in and out, as if she were not quite fully there.

 “you couldn’t even do that, baby girl,” she spat, grinning sadistically, bearing her fangs. And Wynonna charged at her, knocking her against the wall, the knife falling from her hand, tumbling to the floor with a satisfying thud. The last part of her father. The only part that hadn’t been burnt to a crisp in that fateful fire, that fire had burned away Wynonna’s innocence. Nothing had been simple since. The only part of a life before. Well, apart from her sisters. But only one had really survived. The one stood before Wynonna, the one with Wynonna’s arm pressed against her throat wasn’t really Willa at all, was just a ghost in her skin.

Willa laughed, batting her eyelashes, looking doe-eyed up at her sister,

“You’re really going to do it?” she said, her voice wobbling in pretend fear as she grinned, “Going to kill your helpless sister, the only real family you have left?”

Willa grinned at her, a demonic grin as she goaded Wynonna to do it, convinced that she would not.

“Waverly’s my family,” Wynonna spat, “You’re just a memory,” and with that she brought her hands up to Willa’s neck, pushing and snapping her neck, her body crumpling to the floor. The thud echoing through the room. A single tear running down Wynonna’s cheek.

And in death she wasn’t demonic, she wasn’t goading or horrendous or abject, she was just a little girl, a lost little lamb, every bit as perfect as the three girls Nicole had seen that night, just a precious life lost. There wasn’t even any blood and as Nicole stared at her she kept thinking she would wake up, would blink her eyes open and would be back to normal. But she never moved.

Wynonna wasn’t looking at her. She was looking at Waverly, looking at the way Nicole hovered between the two bodies like a graveyard.

“Here,” she said quickly, running over to the bodies, “help me,” she said, as she started to lift Waverly’s body onto her shoulder, “don’t just stand there!” she screamed, tears running down her face,

“Wynonna it’s over,” Nicole said softly,

“It might not be too late,” she said curtly, making her way over to the door, “neither of them are human,”

~

Doc, Jeremy and Rosita stood outside, their faces dropping as they witnessed Nicole and Wynonna carrying Waverly on their shoulders, coated in more blood than Nicole had ever thought humanly possible. It was dripping from them as her feet dragged behind them, still chained.

“Oh my god,” Jeremy said, dropping to his knees in the dirt outside, looking too shocked to even cry, just starting at the way Waverly’s head lulled to one side. Even Doc looked lost for words, standing perfectly still.

“There’s no time for any of that,” Nicole screamed, her voice hoarse, some of Waverly’s blood dripping into her mouth, she couldn’t think of any of that because Dolls still lay dead on the floor, “Dolls is still in there!” she screamed as she fell to the floor, her vision finally giving in, cutting to blackness.

~

She woke up in a bed. For a minute she didn’t know where she was. She was blissfully unaware, she was in an in-between stage and she swore she could see her old apartment wall before her, the one before she was fired, her books all lined up in a neat line on the bookshelf in front of her. She could smell eggs cooking. But then the pain kicked in. Her ribs were on fire. Her throat felt like she had swallowed bags of sand and then she _remembered._

By god did she remember.

“Waverly!” she screamed, jolting up in bed and screaming again at the pain.

Jeremy burst through the doors, the bags under his eyes dark black, his hair unkempt, his clothes stained with blood. He looked utterly beat down.

“You have five broken ribs!” he shouted as Nicole tried to get herself out of the bed, she winced with every small movement, but she couldn’t just lie there, she needed to see Waverly, she needed to see Dolls, all she could see over and over again in her mind was the pair of them crumpled on the floor. And the blood. _Oh god there was so much blood._

“I need to see them!” she said, stumbling over to where Jeremy was standing and placing her hands on his shoulders, trying (and failing) to keep her lying in the bed,

“Where are they?” she shouted again.

Jeremy watched the tears fall from her eyes,

“Fine,” he said, “here lean on me, they’re this way,”

“Are they okay?” she said helplessly, wishing her body would move faster.

Jeremy was awfully quiet, the kind of deathly quiet, funeral quiet, _it’s bad news_ quiet.

“Jeremy are they okay?”

“Honestly?”

Nicole took a breath, “honestly,”

“I can get visions of the near future,” he said slowly, “nothing massive, just small inclinations, but every time I’ve tried to see what’s going to happen it’s just been grey, a thick smog coating everything,”

She felt Jeremy stiffen as she leant on his shoulder,

“Fuck,” she said, and proceeded to walk a little faster down the hallway.

~

She walked into a scene of chaos. Dolls and Waverly were lay strewn across two beds, both of them unmoving, Wynonna hovering over Waverly’s body like a ghost as Rosita was holding her hand, eyes shut, chanting.

_She’s a witch._ Nicole remembered. She didn’t know enough about Rosita’s powers to know whether this was working, whether or not it was futile.

“She can’t die with the ring on _,”_ she heard Wynonna mutter.

_What did that mean?_

Her brain couldn’t process anything that was happening.

“She’s in a coma,” Jeremy whispered quietly, and Nicole didn’t think she would ever be so relieved to hear those words. _She has a chance._

Her eyes moved to Dolls, lying still, abandoned on the other bed, still not moving. She moved to him, placing a hand against his head, recoiling quickly. He was still burning, as if his skin was pure fire.

_Why was no one helping him?_

Doc burst through the doors, his hat still on his head, his eyes settled when he saw Nicole.

“Good,” he said curtly, “you’re here,”

He threw her something, a small tube filled with blue liquid. She raised her eyebrows at him,

“What on earth is this?”

“Wynonna confiscated it from him when he arrived,” he placed his hands on Nicole’s shoulders giving her what looked like a small gun, “inject him with it, it might be the only chance he has,”

 He nodded, encouraging her and with shaky hands she placed the blue substance into the gun, pressing the needle against his neck, closing her eyes as she injected it into him, hoping and praying that it would work.

He came to with a splutter, his eyes turning bright yellow just like they had in the warehouse. Nicole took a step back, the last thing she needed was to be set on fire. But he sat up, looking around the room and growling, and even Wynonna was looking now, Rosita stopping mid-chant.

“Whoa calm down there,” Doc said, placing a hand against his chest to hold him back recoiling as his skin started to burn.

“Let me,” Jeremy said, and he and Nicole tried to hold Dolls down.

“You’re alive,” Nicole said, bursting into tears that dropped onto his chest, sizzling like summer rain. And Dolls seemed to settle, staring up at her, his eyes starting to fade,

“It burns” he said, his voice raspy as he struggled against the bed,

“No you’re not dying on me!” Nicole shouted, “you’re not dying before we’ve even got to talk about you being a DRAGON!”

He laughed a little, rattling through him as his body convulsed,

“It’s not enough,” he said slowly, and Nicole could see the light starting to fade from his eyes,

“I love you, Haught,” he said, managing a small smile, “you’ll always be my family, and – and,” he was struggling to get the words out now, “and I’m sorry,” he was so earnest and as he looked into her eyes, Nicole felt a part of her break inside, she gripped onto his hand tighter,

“I love you too, but this isn’t the end,” she shook her head, in denial.

She was so wrapped up in the moment she didn’t even notice that Waverly had arisen, the ring glowing bright gold on her hand, as if it was controlling her. She moved not like a human, not even like an angel but slowly, one step in front of the other like a corpse, her eyes still firmly shut, her wings starting to heal again, glowing bright white. And she fell onto Dolls’ bed, placing a hand on his chest, the ring guiding her as if it were alive, guiding it right to Doll’s heart. It let out a light so bright it was blinding, everybody falling to the floor with the power of it as a flash went through the room. For a moment all there was was light, and as Nicole moved from her little cocoon on the floor, Dolls was sat awake, blinking, the sweat on his brow the only indication of the state he had just been in. But Nicole didn’t have time to be happy, didn’t have time to process, because Waverly was lying on the floor, and her wings were turning grey, the ring falling from her finger.

~

“Waverly!” Wynonna shouted, throwing herself onto the floor, collecting the ring, trying desperately to shove it back onto her finger but it would take, it was suddenly too small, and Wynonna couldn’t even get it onto the tip of Waverly’s smallest finger.

“Please!” she cried, holding the ring in her hand, willing anything to happen.

Waverly had healed Dolls. She had given what was left of her life so that he might live. It was angelic, heavenly, pure. It was also horrifying.

There was a hole in Nicole’s chest where her heart used to be and she couldn’t breathe. Dolls was there, blinking, stretching his arms, unaware of what was happening, and Wynonna had moved at lightning speed, stretching over Waverly’s body, her body moulding exactly to that of her younger sisters, to that of her light, her other half.

And her fangs were out.

“No!” Doc yelled, moving to tackle Wynonna, knocking her back as she hissed, “You don’t know what that will do!”

Wynonna was sobbing, scratching at Doc desperately trying to get at Waverly and Nicole was frozen still.

It took her a moment to realise what was going on. _Wynonna wanted to make her sister into a vampire._

“She’s an _angel_ , Wy” Jeremy emphasised, “It’s unprecedented.”

Nicole didn’t know how people were speaking. She didn’t know how people were having an opinion whilst she lay there still. She didn’t feel like she had a heart, a brain or body. She brought her knees up to her chest, clutching at them, as if desperately trying to hold herself together, never taking her eyes off of Waverly’s body.

“It could work,” Wynonna said quietly, her voice strangled, as if she knew it wouldn’t work, as if she was fundamentally broken from the inside out.

“It won’t work,” came a voice from the doorway and all six heads turned, their jaws dropping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo let me know what you thought! All your comments mean so much to me!  
> As always my tumblr is waverlysangels and my twitter is waverlysangel feel free to follow me.  
> Hope you have a nice day!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're here! At the end! This is a little late and a long time coming, but we made it! I hope you enjoy this labour of love, it definitely took a couple of turns in the overall story that I didn't necessarily anticipate when I first came up with the idea, but I'm still proud of the end result (and definitely ready to go back to writing more manageable one shots!)

The man had angel wings. Stretching out, grand and white, the edges tinted with gold, gleaming as if the sun were always behind him. It made Nicole stop a moment. Amid the chaos, amid the very life and death that was spread before her, it made her marvel. Nicole wondered if that’s what Waverly’s wings had looked like before, before they had faded to grey, before they had crumpled at the edges. Mostly she just wondered why the hell there was a second angel in the room.

“All of you, out,” he said, not loudly but firmly, and with the right amount of authority that snapped Nicole out of her daze.  The right amount of authority that made her shuffle out of the room, all of them following behind her, herded like sheep in their stupor. All but one. A lost lamb.

“We don’t even know you,” Wynonna growled, her fangs bared.

“Do you want her to live?” he said, and stared Wynonna directly in the eyes. For a moment Nicole thought there might be a fight, but Wynonna shot a final look at Waverly’s body, limp, dying. And when it came to her sister she would risk it all. She conceded, bowing her head, taking one last longing look at Waverly before leaving the room.

~

She dropped to her knees.

Nicole had never prayed in her life. But then she had never seen an angel either, so now seemed a pretty good time to start.

 She clasped her hands together and whispered,

_Please save her,_

Over and over. Nothing complicated. A mantra.

And to her utmost surprise Wynonna didn’t roll her eyes, didn’t curse her out, didn’t tell her it was useless. Wynonna, vampire, atheist, made by the devil’s own hand, dropped to her knees too, clasping her hands together.

And soon enough everybody had joined in, kneeled in a circle, their hands gripped together, their eyes closed, and the mantra filled the room, swirling and filling the air like a breeze, a wisp of a cloud.

_Please save her. Please save her. Please save her._

There was a flash of brilliant white from underneath the door.

And Waverly began to scream.

~

“Baby girl!” Wynonna yelled, bursting through the door to find her sister sat up, her wings white again folded around her, shining as if they had soaked up all the light in the room. Their brilliance blinded Nicole. What also blinded her was the scream coming from Waverly as she shuffled back on the bed, her finger pointed, accusatory towards the man slumped on the floor. He was greyed out, his wings disappeared, all that was left was a pile of ash by his hair, that seemed to stretch into the wooden floorboards, his arm lying limp by his side.

Nicole moved to place her hand on his chest, but there was nothing. There was no coming back.

This man, whoever he was, was dead.

“Baby girl,” Wynonna said again, moving to place her arms around Waverly, letting Waverly sob against her shoulder. They just fit together in a perfect circle, yin and yang, light and dark, her great white wings curling around her sister’s black leather jacket, and Nicole felt she was witnessing something precious, something intimate that she had no right to see.

She felt a tug at her shoulder. Doc gave her a knowing look and she turned away, walking down the hallway and leaving the sisters too it. No matter how much she wanted to see Waverly, her sister had to come first and Nicole had always known that.

~

They stood in the hallway like a crowd without a leader, as if all the momentum all the urgency of five minutes had melted into the floor, and all they were left with was empty bodies, tired, not quite sure what to do. Adrenaline still rattled around their bones but it was over seemingly, it had nowhere to go, nothing to do. Nicole set her eyes on Dolls. She realised in all of the chaos she hadn’t even fully appreciated that he had almost been dead, that her big brother with his strong arms and kind eyes had nearly been ripped from her. She threw herself at him, letting his arms fold around her, letting her listen to his heartbeat, strong and steady and reliable as the sun coming up in the morning. She started to sob, feeling the others slowly disappear from the hallway as they stayed glued together, seeking comfort from each other.

“How come you never told me?” came Nicole’s voice, small, almost a whisper as she broke away from his arms, staring up at him.

“About what?” he said.

But Nicole could tell he knew _about what._ She raised her eyebrows,

“Fine,” he sighed, leaning against the wall, staring at the floor, avoiding looking at Nicole.

“I was ashamed,” he said, looking up as if expecting a response, but Nicole just nodded, urging him to go on,

“when it first happened I was only small, angry about something or other and I scared my own mother, a small bit of fire came out, and I set fire to the living room carpet, and I could see it then etched into her own eyes, this fear, this distrust of what I was, who I was,” he took a breath, “after that it was never the same, and as soon as she could she sent me off to camp, there they trained me, used me,” Nicole could hear his voice quivering just a bit, “they made me into a black badge soldier, they made me loyal, made me hate myself, can you believe that?” he said, shaking his head, “can you believe I used to pride myself on blind loyalty, on doing whatever they wanted me to, no questions asked?” he scoffed, “I used to think insubordination was the worst crime imaginable, god knows what crimes I committed in their name,”

“I might know something about that,” Nicole said softly, reaching out an arm to embrace Dolls again, “you never had to be ashamed around me, they fucked us both up, and being able to breathe dragon fire only makes you cooler,” she grinned, “my god if I’d have known that sooner, the fun we could have had,” she laughed, and Dolls cracked, a smile opening up across his face as they looked at each other.

It didn’t matter what happened. Who was what and who did what and who said what, there was a bond that tied them forever, Nicole was forever going to be Dolls’ annoying little sister and fiercest friend. And never had she felt that more strongly that right then, she could practically feel a bond curling around the two of them, a bond forged in fire, ironically.

Their moment was interrupted by Wynonna (as was becoming a trend).

“She wants to see you,” Wynonna said, her voice quiet and Nicole could tell she’d been crying. Nicole shot one last look at Dolls, him reaching out his hand to squeeze hers. _It’s all going to be okay._ And she had to hope that it would be.

~

Wynonna and Dolls took the body from the room. His face was covered with a sheet but Nicole could still see his features through it, as if they were scratching at the surface, trying to break free of their new cage. It was a strange concept, one minute here the next gone, scrabbling about in an unknowable place, lying completely still. Nicole didn’t think she would ever get over it.

Waverly seemed smaller than usual, even with her great white wings stretching across the headboard. Her wings were no longer broken, her glow all but returned, but it was fake, arbitrary, Nicole could tell that inside she was still wilting. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her cheeks were streaked with tears, but she was there, alive and breathing.

She sat tentatively at the edge of the bed.

“Will you come closer?” Waverly said softly, and Nicole moved closer,

“Can you just hold me?” she said, her voice quiet, her eyes not quite looking at Nicole.

Nicole settled for letting Waverly put her head in her chest, her body curling into Nicole’s, her wings folding behind her. Nicole could feel her breathing against her, still shaking ever so slightly,

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” she said softly, not because she believed it would be but because she _wanted_ to believe it could be, because she couldn’t bear the thought of Waverly in any more pain. She ran her hand through her hair, the patches of it sticking up bare, the rest of it shaved. She could see little cuts from where Bobo had been rough with her, that same scene playing behind her eyelids like a gag reel, endlessly on repeat. It made her want to cry.

“I know it’s ugly isn’t it,” Waverly said, looking directly up at Nicole, her face just inches away.

“Nothing about you could ever be ugly,” Nicole said, and she surprised herself by how much she meant it, by how visceral her reaction was. She hadn’t even considered for a second that Waverly could be ugly, that anything about her could be anything less than perfect.

“You don’t have to lie to me,”

“I mean it,” she smiled wide, “besides it’s kind of bad ass, very Charlize Theron, very Kristen Stewart,”

Waverly smiled a half smile, moving to press her lips against Nicole’s lightly, a soft kiss, tentative.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said quietly,

“Where else would I be?”

There was a moment of silence.

“He was my dad,” she said quietly, gesturing to where the body had lain on the floor. It felt strange to be up on the bed, so alive, warm, hearts beating, whilst he lay cold.

“Oh, Waves, I’m so sorry,” Nicole said, letting her nuzzle her head back into her chest, crying softly.

“I must be the unluckiest person in the world, to lose three parents,”

“I know,” Nicole said, just trying to comfort her, and Waverly cried quietly against her.

Nicole couldn’t stop seeing the scene play out in front of her like a bad day dream, Willa slashing her throat, the blood pouring onto the floor, mixing with the dust before her like an unholy matrimony, Nicole powerless pushing and pushing to no avail, a seal containing her, refusing to break.

She had let her down. She was lucky she was still alive, and only because of her father’s sacrifice.

“I’m sorry Waves,” she said very quietly.

“What for?”

“I can’t stop seeing what Bobo did – knowing that I worked for him,” she took a deep breath, “being unable to stop him, you must hate me.”

Waverly placed a hand on Nicole’s shoulder.

“I don’t hate you,”

“You should.”

“Listen,” Waverly said, placing a hand underneath Nicole’s chin, “I don’t care Nicole,” she smiled, “Bobo’s done nothing but take from me, I’m not letting him take you as well.”

And all Nicole could do was look down at Waverly and think how lucky she was. She had been able to tell from the first time she’d laid eyes on Waverly that she was big for her, that she was going to be trouble, going to drive her crazy, that she’d go to the end of the earth and back, and here she was, lying in her arms, looking up at her. And Nicole felt so, so lucky, she leant down to kiss Waverly, letting her arms snake around her neck, being very careful not to jostle her wings.

“Oi, lovebirds” came a shout from the door, “Rosie made dinner, down to the dining room, stat.”

Nicole rolled her eyes but slipped her hand into Waverly’s and followed Wynonna down the hallway.

~

It turns out dinner was doughnuts and tiny shots of Whiskey, lovingly poured into individual shot glasses and laid around the table. A proper family meal.

“Are we going to be living with winged Waverly forever?” Jeremy said as Waverly took her seat at the table.

“Oh I’d forgotten,” she said, shutting her eyes, the wings folding into her back, her skin smoothing over as if they were never there.

“You can do that?” Nicole said in awe as they sat down, serving herself to a chocolate doughnut.

“Hell of a party trick isn’t it?” Wynonna grinned, speaking through a mouthful, she was somehow already four doughnuts deep.

Nicole shook her head.

Waverly lifted her shot glass up, her head bowed down,

“To Julian,” she said quietly as everyone lifted their glasses up,

“and his sacrifice,” Wynonna added, echoed by a couple of _ayes_ from around the table.

“and for yours,” Dolls said, his expression earnest as he made eye contact with Waverly, a nod between the two of them. A simple thread connecting them that could only grow stronger.

Later there would be a funeral, a real one, where Waverly would say beautiful words and her sister would clutch her tight. Where they would glance around and thank whoever would listen that they were all alive, that they had each other, but for now they were together, little scraps of threads tying them forever together, like a map charting journeys, a complicated web. And Nicole had never really had much family, she’d spent her whole life trying to put small scraps together, a father figure in Nedley, a brother in Dolls, mostly she’d been isolated. And now as she looked around the table she realised she’d stumbled upon a full family, completely by accident. She couldn’t help but grin, slipping her hand into Waverly’s.

“Ugh do we have to live with a couple now?” Wynonna scoffed,

“As if you haven’t been banging Doc this whole time,” Rosita said, raising her eyebrows in Wynonna’s direction,

“Hey, I am single, I’ll have you know,” she grinned, looking directly in Dolls direction, smirking as he choked on a bit of doughnut,

“News to me,” Doc grinned and Wynonna elbowed him in the ribs as Rosita and Jeremy cracked up, trying to hide their sniggering behind their doughnuts. And as Nicole caught Dolls’ eye she shared a knowing grin with him, a shared experience, a glance of agreement. They were both exactly where they needed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and if you're here thanks so much for sticking with it me it means so much!   
> My fic was also shortlisted for the final 16 in the EFA fic challenge, so please feel free to go and vote for me here: http://brackify.com/bracket/26657/EFA-Fic-Challenge-2019 (I have no hope of winning but I'm really proud of my fic and every vote means the world to me!)  
> Hope you have a great day!


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